The Lion and the Lady
by blondie1010
Summary: What if Lyanna Stark had married Robert Baratheon before she was spirited away by Rhaegar Targaryen? What if they had a child together and what would her story be? Rated M for some adult language and themes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters (except Amarah) and locations property of George R. R. Martin and HBO Productions

Note: I have been working on this story for a while but decided to go ahead and post it. Several chapters are already complete but I will be posting one at a time. Please feel free to read and review. Since this is my first story ALL comments are appreciated constructive or otherwise. Thank you and enjoy!

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It was cold. That was Amarah Baratheon's first thought as she rode through the harsh landscape leading to Winterfell, the home of her uncle, Lord Eddard Stark. It had been many years since she had been allowed to visit her family there, and now to make the trip in the presence of her detestable relations, she had rather wished she could forgo the visit all together.

Instead of riding in the transport with Cersei and her brood, Amarah had chosen to ride on horseback most of the way. After spending months on the King's Road with her stepmother, Amarah half-considered the melodramatic solution of throwing herself beneath her horse's hooves to end her misery, but her keen instinct for survival quickly rejected the thought.

As the harsh winter wind struck her cheek like a thousand icy knives, she tried to still the chattering of her teeth long enough to ask one of the guards how much farther they would have to ride. The cold temperature had not been as much of a bother several days ago, but the farther north they went, the harder it was to endure. She was nothing however, if not a survivor.

"Just a bit farther now, my lady" the guard shouted over the howling wind.

Giving a regal nod of her head, Amarah cantered forward to join Tyrion Lannister who seemed to be faring much better in the harsh atmosphere than she. Tyrion was Amarah's family through her father's marriage, but she had always considered him a friend more than a relation. She would be dammed before she claimed any Lannisters as true relations, even one she regarded as highly as Tyrion.

"I hear there is a very reputable whore house in these parts" she said in a casual tone as if they were discussing such mundane topics as the weather.

Tyrion turned slightly in his saddle to observe her in that condescending way which was so common in his manner.

"And what other recommendations might you have heard in regards to this establishment" he returned with the same casual expression.

"I'm afraid I failed to get any of the particulars" she replied "but has it not been said 'if you've bedded one whore you've bedded them all'?"

"I must confess I have never agreed with that ridiculous assumption" he said in a disgruntled tone, obviously put out that she had not bothered to procure better information.

"Well, I have also heard" she continued "that a particular whore name Ros might see to your needs most adequately." The disgruntled look on Tyrion's face now turned to one of carnal satisfaction as he pondered the possibilities of Ros and her abundant assets. Turning his horse to take a separate path toward the village, he turned to regard her with a cynical smile.

"As always, my lady, you have proven most invaluable." With this, he set off down the trodden path at a slightly more brisk pace.

Amarah smirked as she watched the little man canter off towards the establishment she had been so good to recommend. As it was well known throughout the kingdom, Tyrion Lannister had a very _large_ appetite, and not just for food to be found at the feasting table.

Most people viewed Tyrion as something to be mocked or ridiculed because of his disadvantage of being born a dwarf, but Amarah regarded him with much more respect than most. Not many people of her acquaintance possessed a razor sharp wit that rivaled her own, but she had found in Tryion Lannister a sharp mind and kindred spirit.

Turning her gaze to the other Lannister brother, Amarah felt her smirk turn into a sneer at the sight of his golden armor and sweeping cloak. Jaime Lannister certainly made up for in good looks what his brother lacked, but he would never equal Tyrion in character. Seeming to sense her derisive gaze, the elder Lannister turned his golden head in her direction with the same mocking smile he always wore.

Muttering a curse, Amarah turned away quickly and focused her attention on the road before her. There was no time in the day to waste on thoughts of men as useless and wretched as Jaime Lannister.

To her relief, the walls of Winterfell soon came into view, and the traveling party slowed considerably as they rode through the large, wooden gates. Sweeping her gaze across the crowded courtyard, Amarah's gaze found her Stark relations all lined up in a neat row ready to receive the king. She noted with some pity that Uncle Ned's bastard, Jon Snow, had been relegated to stand behind the rest of the family with the watchmen and squires. It would never do for a bastard to greet the king as a true member of the family.

As their group cantered to a halt, Amarah stayed atop her chestnut mare while she waited for her father to greet their hosts. She could not make out his greeting words to them over the wind, but the smiles on their faces confirmed they had been pleasant ones. After he had finished doling out the pleasantries, King Robert turned to seek her out.

"Amarah," he called out gruffly "come and greet your Uncle."

Sliding off her horse with the assistance of Jaime Lannister, Amarah quickly shook off his unwelcome touch and moved forward to greet her relations. Her Uncle Ned regarded her with a warm expression as he reached forward to pull her into a warm embrace. She took a few moments more than necessary to hug her uncle, but his affection seemed to warm her chilled bones as if she had just sat in front of a blazing fire to bask in its warmth. Pulling back from the embrace she regarded him with an engaging smile.

"It's so good to see you again, Uncle" she said with uncharacteristic sincerity.

Turning then to her Aunt Cat, Amarah repeated the gesture and it was returned in full measure. After greeting her Aunt and Uncle, Amarah regarded the rest of her cousins with a warm smile before stepping back to allow the queen to be introduced as well.

Moving to stand next to little Arya and Bran, Amarah stooped down to envelop each of them in a warm hug. Those two had been so small the last time she had visited Winterfell, she almost wouldn't have recognized them. After returning the hug, Arya pulled her back down to whisper in her ear.

"Where's the imp?"

Grimacing at the nickname, Amarah took no offense at her cousin's innocent question. Tyrion was largely referred to throughout the realm as "the imp," and detestable as the name might have become, it was still commonly used to refer to the little lord.

"Fret not, little cousin. He will put in an appearance shortly" Amarah replied.

Arya did not seem satisfied with this answer, but their conversation was cut short by Robert's demand to be taken to the family crypt. Amarah knew the moment the words came out of her father's mouth, it would not sit well with the queen.

"My love" said Cersei in her warm, husky tone, "we have been traveling for months. Surely the dead can wait."

Ignoring his wife as if she hadn't spoken at all, Robert turned back to Eddard Stark impatiently. "Ned?"

Glancing apologetically at the queen, Ned turned to lead the king down to the crypt and to his sister's grave. Lyanna Stark had been King Robert's one true love and Amarah's mother. She had been stolen away by Prince Rheagar shortly after Amarah's birth, causing her father's rebellion against the ruling Targaryen family. Lyanna was found almost a year later by her brother Eddard Stark but died soon thereafter under mysterious circumstances that had never been divulged to Amarah.

Having no memories of her departed mother, Amarah felt no great need to uncover the mystery of her death. As far as she was concerned, what's done was done, and there was nothing to be gained by delving into the past. Doing so would change nothing and likely only cause her heartache over a mother she had never known.

Robert however, had never truly recovered from his first wife's death. A fact that had caused much contention in his present marriage, and a palatable hatred between Amarah and the Lannisters, save for Tyrion. They could never forgive the fact that because of her mother, she was the King's favorite.

She had been told by many that she resembled the late Lyanna Stark. While she had her father's dark black locks, she had inherited the piercing grey eyes from her mother as well as her fiery spirit and sharp, biting tongue.

Amarah had never considered herself to be a ravishing beauty, but men seemed to be drawn to her the moment she entered a room. "An icy beauty" she had heard a maid describe her appearance. Though short of stature, Amarah possessed a womanly figure that caused men to slaver and women to eye her with envy. But to Amarah, her beauty was not a source of vanity but her most powerful weapon of all. Men were basic creatures. A discreet smile here, an innocent flutter of lashes there, and many a knight would be eating out of the palm of her dainty, little hand.

Contemplating these thoughts, she finally took a moment to glance at Robb and allowed herself to drink in his handsome face and boyish charm. She had been ten years the last time they had parted, but she had not forgotten his face. Many a cold, dreary night when she felt alone and desolate, she would think of gentle Robb Stark and his kind eyes as he handed her a small chain of flowers he had spent hours making.

They had both been mischievous imps at the time. After King Robert had returned from the war he left his only daughter in the care of her Uncle Ned while he left for the capitol. Amarah had not understood at the time why he had done it, but now she understood that her face had been too fresh a reminder of her mother's memory. A memory he could not bear to be reminded of.

She remembered his gruff goodbye in the very courtyard where she stood now. Her two year old mind had not been able to grasp it. She did not understand why he was leaving her. As he climbed on his horse, she began to cry and scream for him to come back down, to come back and hold her. But he paid her no mind. She could have been invisible for all the attention he gave her.

As he began to ride away, she started to scream and cry even harder. "Come back, Papa! Come back , Papa!" she had cried over and over again. But he never looked back. Not even once. Amarah still felt the bone-deep sense of betrayal all these years later. After her father's departure, she went completely silent. No more tears or screams, nothing. She had never cried since that day.

She had been a very solemn child after that, but her solemn demeanor was challenged constantly by her cousins Robb and Jon who decided that she was a most dull girl indeed. They wanted to play in the mud puddles and swim in the river, but she refused to have anything to do with their games. They decided that since she was so unkind as to refuse their offers, they would bring the games to her. She had been five years old when the first mud ball had been thrown at her shiny, black locks. After that it had been all out war between the small trio. Those had been the happiest years of her life, running around in the mud with her two cousins and not a care in the world.

When she came into her tenth year, a summons came from King's Landing for her to join her father at the capital. He had been remarried for several years and now wanted his daughter to come home and take her rightful place in his house. Amarah had inwardly rebelled at the summons, but she kept her feelings hidden and meekly accepted her father's command. The morning she prepared to leave, Robb came to her room with his grubby hand hidden behind his back. Giving him a questioning look, Amarah waiting for him to produce whatever it was that he was hiding.

Sheepishly, her cousin produced a delicate chain of daisies that he had obviously been working on for some time. Amarah fell in love with her little cousin in that instant. Looking into his brown eyes, she felt with some conviction that no one would ever love her as much as Robb. Gazing at him now, she still felt the same.

"Where's the imp?" Arya asked again, rather loudly this time, interrupting Amarah's wandering thoughts.

"Shut up!" Sansa ground out, elbowing her little sister in the side.

"Ow!" shouted an indignant Arya with a look that promised imminent retribution.

Cat leaned over to give both girls a reproving glance, and Amarah struggled to conceal her smile over Arya's less than subtle curiosity regarding Lord Tyrion.

With an even more disgruntled look on her face at the discovery of her brother's absence, Cersei marched toward Jaime who stood back surveying the scene unfolding before him.

"Where is the little beast?" she asked rather ungraciously.

Not immediately venturing a reply, Jaime raised his golden brow in a supercilious expression that never ceased to raise Amarah's ire. Turning his expectant gaze in her direction he waited for her to answer the Queen's inquiry regarding their bother's whereabouts. Obviously he had seen Tyrion ride off toward the village after their brief conversation, but _let the clever bastard figure it out himself _she thought.

Ignoring Jaime Lannister and his sister, Amarah coldly withdrew her gaze and asked her Aunt if she would be so kind as to show her to her quarters. Sensing the underlying tension between her guests, Catelyn was more that happy to comply, shouting out orders for the servants to get back to their stations.

Following her aunt inside the keep, Amarah could feel that cold bastard's gaze still on her. She did not know why but something about Jaime Lannister simply made her blood boil. Not a pleasant reaction for a girl who prided herself on maintaining her icy composure, but something about that smug son-of-a-bitch undermined all of her well applied self-discipline in one fell swoop.

Ignoring the prickly irritation she felt at the very sight of Jaime Lannister, she fought to maintain a serene expression as she walked behind her aunt. Passing Robb, she gave him a warm smile and turned her thoughts in a more pleasant direction. Taking a deep breath she calmed her frazzled nerves. Maybe this could prove to be an enjoyable visit after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters (besides Amarah) are property of HBO and George R. R. Martin

Note: Thanks for checking out this story. I've been working on it for some time and will post one chapter at a time. All reviews are appreciated constructive or otherwise

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Eddard Stark had prepared a large feast in honor of his royal guests. Amarah had been filled with a sense of longing as she entered the feasting hall, remembering the days she used to spend sitting in this very hall while getting into all sorts of mischief with her cousins. With a casual perusal of her surroundings, she saw Robb sitting with the other stark children but Jon was nowhere to be seen.

After looking through the crowd for several moments, Amarah finally found him sitting in the back of the hall with the squires and soldiers. As she took in his uncomfortable expression, something painful tightened around her heart. She knew that bastards were not usually accepted in higher social circles and the fact that Jon was allowed to attend the feast was significant. But it was a bit difficult to see her childhood friend so ostracized from the rest of his family.

Turning her thoughts away from those of Jon Snow, Amarah approached her hostess Lady Stark who was seated next to the queen. Cersei did not acknowledge Amarah's presence and turned her gaze toward the feast, but Amarah was used to the Queen's hostility and ignored her ungracious behavior. Turning to her aunt she gave a charming smile.

"This is a beautiful feast aunt" she said warmly. "You have truly outdone yourself."

"Thank you my dear" Catelyn replied with equal warmth. "Come sit next to me. It has been too long since we have last seen you. You must tell me all your news from the capital."

"Certainly" Amarah replied, grateful she would not have to be seated next to Cersei.

For the next hour, Amarah chatted with her aunt about the different bits of gossip she carried back with her from the capital. No one had better placed spies than Amarah, a fact the queen was blissfully ignorant of. Due to her many sources of information, Amarah knew more gossip than half of King's Landing and did not hesitate to share many of her trivial findings with her aunt.

Through the course of their conversation, Amarah noticed her father's obvious enjoyment of the feast and those who served it as well. She had already lost count of the number of serving wenches that he openly groped and ogled in a drunken state. She glanced over at Cersei who had also taken notice of her husband's activities, but despite a look of vague annoyance, she seemed not too disturbed.

_And little wonder_ Amarah thought bitterly as she turned her gaze to Jaime Lannister who stood conversing with Uncle Ned. However her father had disrespected Cersei in their marriage, it was nothing as vile as her behavior towards him. Keeping her features carefully composed, Amarah abruptly stood.

"Forgive me aunt" she apologized. "I am afraid our travel has left me rather weary. Would you beg excuse me."

"Certainly dear" Catelyn replied with a kind smile and turned to speak to the queen.

Hastily making her way through the hall, Amarah's gaze caught Robb's as she passed by his party. He was sitting with a boy she recognized as Theon Greyjoy and a host of other young men, but her gaze was only for him. She faltered for a moment in her quick pace, reading an expression in his eyes that she couldn't quite comprehend. Abruptly realizing that she was staring, Amarah quickly withdrew her gaze and moved on. She did not have to turn back to see that he followed.

Once she had exited the hall, she walked out into the cool night air but slowed her pace considerably. Heading casually toward the stables, she waited for Robb to join her. Hearing the heavy fall of his footsteps behind her she felt her heart suddenly beat uncomfortably fast in anticipation.

"It's good to see you again, my lady" he said softly. He did not come around to face her but pressed his form against her back and whispered the words softly against her exposed neck. She shivered deliciously at the feel of his hot breath against her skin.

"I think it's rather too dark to see anyone" she answered while still facing away from him. He gave a low chuckle at her quip.

"Then I suppose I shall have to take a closer look" he answered. Grasping her firmly, but not painfully, by the arms he slowly turned her around to face him. He looked at her very seriously for a few moments before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Yes, just as beautiful as I remember."

"And when did you become such a gallant knight who made flowery speeches to young ladies?" she asked in good humor.

"Since I became a man who knows what he wants" Robb answered seriously, the boyish smile leaving his face.

"We can't always have what we want" Amarah answered suddenly dropping her gaze.

"Or sometimes we just have to take it" he answered before grasping her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. "I've missed you."

The words were simple enough, but the meaning behind them was dangerous. Pulling away from his grasp to place some distance between them, Amarah tried to calm her racing heart while restoring sense to her mind.

"I've missed you as well" she answered softly.

He came up behind her again and hugged her to his chest. She felt the solid form of him behind her and resisted the urge to melt into his embrace. The nine years of their separation had made him a strong man built of solid muscle and bone, not the boy she had left so many years earlier, and the man he had become was dangerous to her peace of mind.

"How much?" he asked quietly before softly kissing her neck.

"Robb!" she reprimanded him before pulling out of his embrace once more.

"What is it?" He sounded exasperated now.

"We can't do that" she said, inwardly cringing as she spoke the words. "We're cousins."

"What does that matter?" he asked defensively. "The Targaryens married their _siblings_ for centuries." No statement could have cooled her ardor more quickly.

"We are _not_ Targaryens" she replied coolly. "And incest is a sin Robb. It's condemned by the gods."

"It's not a sin between cousins, Amarah." he said in a logical tone.

"It's close enough for me" she replied while turning to face him in the glowing light of the surrounding torches. "Besides, my father would never allow it."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him" he replied stubbornly.

"Do you know how many people have lost their heads over that logic?" she asked. "It is getting late and I am tired. You had better return to the feast." He looked as if he might protest at first, but he gave a small sigh of resignation before giving in to her request.

"It was a pleasure, my lady" he said with a mocking bow before leaving her in the darkness. As she watched his retreating form, she stubbornly held back the tears that threatened to overflow. _Never_ she silently vowed. _Never again_.

"Well" came a voice behind her "he certainly seems to have missed you _more_."

"I am not in the mood, Tyrion" she replied coldly without bothering to turn around.

"What a pity. For I always am."

Fighting the smile that pulled suddenly at the corners of her mouth, Amarah turned around to face him. He was still sober, which was a small miracle considering the amount of wine he must have consumed already. His half-black, half-golden hair glittered in the torchlight giving him the appearance of a friendly demon.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it was impolite to eavesdrop on a personal conversation?" she asked.

"Believe me, that is the least of my sins" he replied.

"I do not doubt it" she said finally giving in to the smile. "And how did you enjoy your morning?" she asked in order to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"I would have enjoyed it more in uninterrupted bliss, but it was a pleasant interlude all the same."

"Ah" she replied with a knowing smile. "Discovered by the Kingslayer were you?"

"Yes," he replied with a weary sigh. "Apparently our sweet Jaime cannot endure a night with the Starks without the added reinforcement of my company."

"Oh yes, how inhuman to force him to spend time in the company of decent people" she said with barely restrained sarcasm.

"How intriguing that my brother never ceases to raise your ire even when he is not present" Tryion replied with an intuitive gaze that instantly set Amarah on edge.

"That man has spent years practicing how to raise my temper" she answered tightly. "I would say he has succeeded only too well."

"How interesting as it would seem he is the only one capable of doing it."

"Do not take that tone of voice with me, Lannister" she replied with an indignant huff. "The only reason Kingslayer succeeds in gaining any reaction from me at all is that I cannot abide oath breakers. I dare say he would run a sword through _my_ father if the chance ever presented itself and he thought he could get a way with it. The man has shit for honor and I want nothing to do with him. So you can cease with your inquisitive glances and veiled implications."

"As you say" was his only reply.

Tamping down an irritated response, Amarah schooled her features into an expression of dignified boredom and rolled her eyes at his superior attitude. For such a small man, he possessed a great deal of self importance. But she could not fault him for it. If no one else could appreciate Tyrion's intelligence or worth, he might as well make up the difference himself.

"Why are you still out here and not inside?" she asked, realizing for the first time that he had yet to step foot inside the hall.

"Just fortifying myself for a night with the Starks" he said patting the flagon of wine he held close to his belly.

"I see. Well, I shall leave you to your spirits and bid you a good night."

"Not in the party spirit I take it?"

"No, unlike you I am _never_ in the mood" she tossed over her departing shoulder.

"Sweet dreams" came the mocking reply.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Thanks for the nice reviews. Here's another chapter with some Jaime interaction this time but their relationship will be a _very very _gradual build. Hang in there with me! A significant part of Amarah's story _is_ her love of Robb so that relationship is the main romantic focus in this chapter. She's been pretty hard-ass so far but this chapter shows a softer side of her personality. It was important for me if I was going to create a character for this world that she be a realistic personality in the harsh setting of the books. Pretty much every character in the books walks the line between good and bad but you still find yourself rooting for a good number of them and I wanted this character to do the same. Also, quick FYI. This story mostly follows the show for the first season but will veer off into more of the book story lines past the events of season one. It just works better that way with Amarah's journey. Enjoy:) Keep the comments coming please! I like knowing what you guys think.

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Amarah entered Bran's sickroom slowly. The room was chilled save for a small fire burning in the hearth and young Bran appeared as sickly and pale as he had a few days before. Catelyn sat at his side working on stitching something together, but she looked almost as pale and drawn as her son.

"Aunt?" Amarah questioned softly before entering the room.

"Amarah" she replied with a weak smile. "Come in, please."

She entered quietly and approached Bran's bedside. He looked rather peaceful and thankfully his expression was devoid of any pain. Her throat constricted painfully at the thought of how close he had come to dying. _How strange_ she thought _that he should suddenly fall when he has been climbing about on these battlements for years. And how ironic that it should happen when the Lannisters are present. _

She did not dare speak her suspicions aloud. If she even hinted at the fact that she suspected the Lannisters involvement in Bran's accident, she would probably experience the same fate herself, without being lucky enough to survive it. Look at what had happened to Jon Arryn. Discretion was key if one intended to survive in King's Landing, and unfortunately for Jon Arryn, he had not been discrete enough.

"I just wanted to say goodbye before we departed" Amarah spoke softly. She softly smoothed Bran's hair away from his cold forehead and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his brow. He stirred not at all and she stroked his little face gently for a few moments before rising again.

"He will be all right, Aunt" she tried to reassure her. There were tears pooling in Catelyn's eyes that she fought bravely to contain but she managed to give Amarah a watery smile. She was not convinced of Amarah's words, but neither was Amarah herself.

"Thank you, my dear" she spoke in a raspy voice. "I wish you a safe journey."

"Goodbye" Amarah replied before turning to leave the room. Before she had managed to exit the room she heard Catelyn call out her name. Turning questioningly she looked back at her Aunt.

"Please look after Ned" she said quietly as if afraid someone else would hear. "I am not in favor at all of him going to the capital, but he insists. Please try to see that he stays out of trouble."

"I'll do what I can, Aunt" she replied honestly. "But I'm afraid Uncle Ned has always been too honorable for his own good."

"That's what I'm afraid of" Catelyn whispered ominously.

"I'll look out for him as best I can" was all Amarah could promise. Giving a small nod of her head, Catelyn turned back towards whatever she was working on.

Exiting the room, Amarah made her way out towards the courtyard where many of the soldiers were preparing for the King's departure. As she approached the smithy, she could hear the sound of the bellows pumping back and forth and the hard strike of steel against steel. Spotting her cousin Jon, she began to make her way towards him.

Before she reached him, she saw Jaime Lannister had spotted the boy and approached him as well. Wearing that mocking smile she was most familiar with, Jaime approached the boy with a careless stride.

"A sword for the wall?" he asked eyeing the small needle-point sword the smithy was busy cleaning. Turning around in surprise, Jon saw who it was that addressed him.

"I already have one" he answered glancing toward the broadsword at his side.

"Good man" Jaime replied with a hint of condescension. "Have you swung it yet?"

"Of course I have."

"At some_one_ I mean." When no answer came Jaime gave a slight grimace and continued on. "It's a strange thing. The first time you cut a man. You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat and blood with some bone to keep it all standing. Let me thank you ahead of time for guarding us all from the powers beyond the wall. Wildings and Whitewalkers and whatnot. We're grateful to have good, strong men like you protecting us."

During the last part of this condescending speech, Jaime clasped Jon's hand in a firm shake that men seemed to think proved their manhood if their grip was stronger. Amarah almost broke her silence at his infantile action, but continued to hold her tongue to allow Jon the chance to defend himself.

Jaime clapped Jon firmly on the shoulder after finally releasing his hand and turned to walk away. Jon did not seem prepared to let his honor go undefended.

"We've guarded the kingdoms for eight thousand years" he spoke defensively to Jaime's retreating back. Turning back slowly with an expression of surprise, Jaime addressed him again.

"Is it 'we' already?" he asked. "Have you taken your vows then?"

"Soon enough." Jaime regarded this reply with nonchalant acceptance.

"Give my regards to the nights watch" he replied, his tone laden with condescension once again. "I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve on such an elite force. And if not, it's only for life."

He turned to leave once again, but something inside Amarah couldn't stand for him to have the last word, especially when his speech was hypocritical in the extreme considering the king's guard took on the same oaths as the night's watch. They also swore to take no wife, sire no children, and own no lands. The only difference between the two was the color of their capes. One gold, one black.

"Pay him no mind Jon" Amarah finally spoke, loudly enough for the Kingslayer to hear. Jaime turned back once again to regard her with a shrewd expression. "The night's watch is an honorable charge. Something Kingslayer here wouldn't know if it shit on his golden head."

"Ah, my lady" he answered with that cutting smile that never failed to prick her temper. However, today she was determined not to let the bastard get the best of her. "A word of advice. It's best you watch your tongue or you might find yourself sharing the same fate as… say the latest Hand of the King."

Jon looked shocked that he would threaten her so blatantly, but Amarah had enough experience with Jaime Lannister to not give in to his taunts. Eyeing him with an almost feral smile, she slowly approached him with a sensual swing of her hips. To her perverse satisfaction, she knew it affected him despite himself.

"We both know, Kingslayer, that if my father thought you capable of harming one hair on my head, he would have _yours_ decorating a spike atop the gates of the city. And what a pity that would be, such a pretty head as yours" Amarah said, imitating the same scornful tone Jaime had used with Jon.

"My deepest apologies, my lady" Jaime's voice rang with false sincerity "if my words were taken as anything but concern for your well-being."

"Oh fret not, ser" she replied with equal sincerity. "I could never think you capable of harming one you swore to protect."

To her immense satisfaction, she saw that her words had hit the mark. His jaw tightened considerably and she could see him mentally steeling himself not to react to her words. Taking a deep breath, Jaime bowed stiffly without saying another word and left the courtyard. Amarah could barely contain her glee at having finally managed to best the man in a battle of words and wit, but she managed to retain her outwardly calm composure before turning to face her cousin.

"The night's watch is not an easy task, Jon" she said in a much kinder tone than she had used moments before. "Are you sure it's something you wish to do?"

"I need to go where I'll be of some use" he said earnestly gazing at her with a somber expression. "Somewhere I can be more than Ned Stark's bastard son."

"You mean more than that to me" she said kindly taking his cold hand in hers. She loved Jon deeply, albeit in a different way than Robb. She couldn't explain it, but she had always felt bound to him by some invisible cord that joined their souls together. Playing together as children, she had always felt close to Jon. Probably because she too had felt like an outsider, despite their differences. He had become her childhood confidant and closest friend. When she found herself in that nest of vipers called a capital and discovered she could trust no one, her thoughts strayed to Jon and the quiet talks they might have shared together.

Looking at him now, she understood his need to leave Winterfell. The night's watch may not have been the easiest path to choose, but he certainly would not be an outsider there. The watch was full of bastards, rapers, and thieves who had chosen the wall over death or social exile.

"I _have_ to go" was all he said. Giving him an understanding smile, Amarah leaned forward to kiss his unshaven cheek.

"I understand" she said after pulling back and cradling his face in her slender hand. "I wish you the best, cousin."

"Thank you" he replied with the first smile she had seen him give since arriving at Winterfell.

Giving his face a soft pat, she stepped away from him and made her way towards the stables. The cold wind whipped her hair wildly about as she hurried on. She had chosen to leave it down on this day, forgoing the option of pinning up in her usual style. As this was her last day at Winterfell, she wanted to experience the fullest extent of freedom. Once they returned to the King's Road she would once again have to become the princess her father expected her to be. _A living shrine_ she thought bitterly as she entered the stables.

Walking past the various stalls toward her mount, she stopped by one of the horses that was trying to eat something out of a feed bucket that was beyond its reach. Feeling a brief tug of pity for the creature, she stopped to rearrange its bucket. After the horse was able to reach its food, it nuzzled her hand in a gesture of affection. Giving a soft chuckle, she stroked its nose with a soft touch and whispered little words of nonsense to soothe the creature.

"She can be a temperamental little thing" came a voice behind her.

Turning in surprise, Amarah met her cousin's direct gaze. She had managed to skillfully avoid him for most of their visit, but she was glad he had taken the time now to seek her out. She would regret it if they did not have the chance to speak before her departure.

"She's beautiful though" Amarah replied, turning back once again to nuzzle the horse's soft nose.

"She's named Amarah" he said coming around to face her. "It was Arya's idea. She thought it showed true spirit, like you."

"A horse named in my honor" she said with a wry twist of the lips. "How flattering."

"You leave today" he said, suddenly turning serious.

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll visit the capital someday" he said, but not very convincingly. Amarah knew that Robb would never be happy in the South.

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" she reminded him kindly. Reaching out to take his hand she waited for his gaze to meet hers. "I will miss you though. I have for nine years you know. Sometimes when I feel so alone that I can hardly hold back the tears, I think of you and Jon. Of how we used play together in the cold air and run about like untamed wildings. And I think of you, and that little chain of flowers. I haven't forgotten you know."

"I never thought you did" he replied. As she had spoken, Robb had taken her hand and moved to cradle it at his breast. She should have prevented the intimate touch, but she found she could not deny herself this one small pleasure. Some dark feeling deep inside told her that this was the last time she would ever see him. She suddenly felt overwhelmed at the depressing notion and pushed it away as quickly as it had come. _He'll always be with me _she told herself stubbornly.

"Robb I…" she began desperate to tell him what she felt, but she could not bring herself to do it.

"Shh" he crooned softly, pulling her to him until her head was cradled on his chest and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. "I know."

They stayed like that for a few moments, or minutes. Both seemed to lose track of time. Robb smelled of the winter air and the slight odor of horses and sweat, but she found it a pleasing scent on him. His hand came to stroke her tangled mass of curls as he continued to hold her close.

"I must go" she finally said with regret, but she made no immediate move to leave.

"Will you marry some noble in the capital?" Robb asked ignoring her previous comment.

"Perhaps" she answered languidly. She was suddenly becoming quite comfortable in his arms. "However, my father seems in no hurry to arrange it. You'll have to marry soon enough though. I'm sure any young lady would be happy to have you."

At this statement she pulled back far enough to look up at his handsome face. He didn't seem so carefree now as he had before, but separation was a part of life. And he knew they could never be together, just as she knew it in her heart. Part of her wanted him to suffer the same as she, but the other hastened to ease his troubled mind.

"Once you have a wife and children of your own, you'll forget about me you know" she said giving him a small smile.

"I will never forget about you" he said fiercely, as if trying to reassure himself as well.

"Oh Robb" she said taking his kind face in her hands. "It would be best for both of us if you did."

After saying this, she promptly kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, almost as surprised as she. But he returned the gesture in full measure and she soon found herself locked in a passionate embrace of teeth, tongue, and lips. After a few moments, she finally managed to end the kiss and attempted to calm her racing heart. Memorizing each feature, she gazed at him for several moments of silence, punctuated only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Finally, she reluctantly pulled away from the embrace.

"Farewell, cousin" she whispered.

Fiercely holding back the tears that threatened to fall, she forced herself to turn and leave the stables. To leave him. And somehow, she knew, they would never meet again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: _Thanks again for reviewing! I really appreciate it. Here's another chapter. The updates will be pretty frequent for the first several chapters since I've already finished those. This one takes a lot of dialogue from the show which isn't the usual case for my chapters, but it was SUCH a great scene for Jaime and the King I had to work it into the story. Feel free to share any thoughts! Thanks_

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The city rang with noises of merriment and trade while Amarah looked bleakly on from the ledge of her bedchamber window. The trip from Winterfell had left her mentally and emotionally drained, and the fact that Ned had been forced to kill Sansa's pet had left her more shaken than she had realized at the time.

She had never known her father to be so unjust. A person with any sense at all could have seen that Joffrey lied about the wolf's attack, but her father had turned a blind eye and ordered the death of an innocent animal. Sansa's silence had cost her dearly, but the King never should have allowed it.

When Amarah had first come to King's Landing those nine years ago, she never could have anticipated what corruption lay before her. Instead of a wise, powerful king and loving father she had found a drunken fool who whored his days away rather than ruling his kingdom as it should be. And instead of a family, she found herself in a den of lions ready to pounce at any moment. And none more ready than the queen lioness herself.

Amarah had never understood Cersei's hatred towards her. She assumed that any competition was unwelcome to a woman as vain and selfish as Cersei, but her hatred went beyond pure jealousy. Amarah had been so disgusted by the queen's behavior that she had once considered debasing herself in the lowest way possible just to tear the vicious bitch's heart out, but in the end, nothing could induce her to stoop as low as that.

So she learned to bear it all. The cutting remarks, cruel whispers, and outright hatred. She had erected a wall so high and thick about herself that the whole of the Lannister army could not penetrate that last defense. Things were all so much easier to bear when one could feel nothing at all, or at least when the whole world seemed to think one feels nothing at all.

When it is believed that one's heart is as cold as ice and just as hard, people cease trying to place cracks in it and move on with their insignificant, menial existences. The face Amarah Baratheon wore before the entire world was a mask of her own making. The one she had crafted in order to survive and one her very existence depended on.

As she sat above the keep, looking at her father's kingdom, she felt empty inside. A dull, leaden feeling that had begun to grow since her first day in the capital. She fought daily against the forces that threatened to rid her of all humanity, her sentiment for human life. But she felt much like a drowning sailor, swept away by the tide with no mooring to cling to. Her uncle and cousins' presence in King's Landing cheered her somewhat, but she knew that until she left this city, she would never truly be whole.

"My lady" came a shy, tentative voice from the doorway of her chamber which she had left open to circulate the cool breeze. "Your father requests your presence in his chambers."

"Thank you, Pod" she replied with a small smile. "I shall come immediately."

"Yes, my lady" he said with a shallow dip of his head. "I can escort you if you wish it."

"Why I believe I shall" she replied with a grand sweep of her arm. "Lead the way Ser Payne."

Podrick Payne was no Ser or even a person of high rank; he had been her father's steward for some time until Lancel Lannister had been brought in to serve the king. Now Podrick was used where he was needed. He never said much, but Amarah liked him all the better for it.

It was a silent march to her father's chambers. Amarah appreciated the quiet as she tried to gather her thoughts. Neither she nor her father had spoken since the incident with the wolf, and although he must have suspected her feelings toward the matter, neither had spoken their thoughts aloud. She was perfectly content to leave things as they were.

Her father requested her presence regularly to sit with him, although they almost never said anything of significance. He was simply content to carry on bawdy conversations with his guards while she silently watched on. Her calm presence seemed to soothe her father in his more restless hours and her visits had increased over the past years.

As they approached the king's chamber, she saw Jaime Lannister standing watch at the door. His noble stance was sure and proud, but she could see the discontent in his eyes. How demeaning it must be to serve as a glorified body guard to a useless king, and a fat, drunk one at that. She almost felt pity for him. Almost.

"My father wished to see me."

"Yes, my Lady" he said swiftly moving aside.

She swept past him with a regal nod of her head before entering her father's domain. Jaime looked momentarily unnerved at her polite behavior before restoring his soldierly demeanor. It was not often that Amarah passed up the opportunity to taunt the Lion of Lannister, but today she could not find the strength to care.

"Do you remember your first?" she heard her father ask of Ser Barristan Selmy as she entered. One of her father's fondest pastimes was reliving his glory days of the war. She found it no surprise he wished to relive the time of his first kill. The rush it brings as the deed is done and the feeling of power after ending one's life. That was a feeling her father found more powerful than any other. She did not share his opinion on the subject.

Both men glanced up as she entered the room, but neither spoke being accustomed to such interruptions. Gliding across the room she took her normal place facing her father's massive desk. Once she had been seated Ser Barristan commenced with his account.

"Of course, Your Grace" he replied.

"Who was it?" the King persisted.

"A Teroshee" he answered matter-of-factly, "never learnt the name."

Her father grunted in acknowledgement of that statement. "How did you do it?"

"Lance through the heart."

"Quick one" the King said with an approving nod. "Lucky for you. Mine was some Tarley boy at the Battle of Summer Hall. My horse took an arrow so I was on foot sluggin' through the mud. He came runnin' at me, this dumb, highborn lad, thinkin' he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword. I knocked him down with a hammer. Gods! I was strong then. Caved in his breastplate, probably shattered every rib he had. Stood over him, hammer in the air. Right before I brought it down over him, he shouted 'Wait! Wait!'."

He gave a rough laugh. There were a few moments of silence as they ruminated on all he had just said. After a few more moments, he commenced with his tale.

"They never tell you how they all shit themselves. They don't put that part in the songs. Stupid boy" he said with a sad shake of his head. "Now the Tarley's bend the knee like everyone else. He could have lingered on the edge of the battle with the smart boys and today his wife would 'of been makin' him miserable. His sons 'ould be ingrates and he'd be wakin' three times a night to piss into a bowl. Wine!"

Lancel Lannister seemed startled by his Lord's sudden request for spirits after his verbal musings on the perils of his life, but he finally managed to bring forward the pitcher of wine. If her father's story was any indication of his mood, he would most likely have the boy shaking in his boots before the glass of wine ran dry. As luck would have it, the pitcher was already empty with only a few drops leaking out into the king's goblet. Not seeming to notice at first, her father took the opportunity to harass the poor mite.

"Lancel" he said with palpable disgust. "Gods! What a _stupid_ name. Lancel Lannister. Who named you? Some half-wit with a stutter" he finished, laughing at his own joke. Amarah would have smiled at her father's words if the poor boy hadn't looked so absolutely mortified. Deciding to spare his feelings, if he possessed any as Lannisters with human emotion were rare indeed, she maintained her stoic composure.

"What are you doin"?" the King asked, finally realizing his goblet was still devoid of wine.

"It's empty, Your Grace" he replied with a helpless gesture.

"What do you mean it's empty?" the King asked in a raised voice full of ire.

"There is no more wine" was all the reply he received. _But really_, Amarah thought, _what_ _other reply did he expect?_

"Is that what empty means? Then get more." His harsh tone promised imminent retribution if his orders were not obeyed immediately.

Springing at once to do her father's bidding, Lancel turned at once to make a hasty retreat in the face of his King's displeasure. As he opened the door to leave, Amarah could see the back of Jaime Lannister guarding the chamber door.

"Tell your cousin to get in here" Robert demanded, seeing the opportunity to torment another Lannister. "Kingslayer!" he shouted. "Get in here."

With a longsuffering look, Jaime moved to do his Lord's bidding. It was obvious that he would have preferred to remain at the door, but when a king summoned, the subjects answered.

"Surrounded by Lannisters" Robert bemoaned aloud. "Everywhere I go I see their blond hair and their smug, satisfied faces. What of you my dear?" he said finally turning to Amarah. "How does the sight of the Lannisters not drive you to constant madness?"

"I was not the one who chose to marry into their house" she replied with cool dignity. Most might be afraid to address the King in such a manner, but she was not. As most people were unaware, her father appreciated the gumption is took to stand up to him. He might not have been imposing as he was many years ago, but his mean disposition and booming voice inspired enough fear to keep others in line. Amarah however, remained unaffected by his manner.

"Then it's a small wonder they _haven't_ driven you to madness, my dear" the King replied before turning his sour expression back on the Kingslayer.

"Must wound your pride, standin' out there like a glorified sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your King eats and drinks and shits and fucks." Amarah could see the Kingslayer's face flich ever so slightly at that last word. The one word that made obvious how his sister was dishonored daily by her husband.

Jaime said nothing however, and continued to maintain his silence. Seeing he would not be able to get a rise out of the Kingslayer, Robert returned to the topic at hand.

"So come on" he urged. "We're discussin' war stories. Who was your first kill not counting old men?"

"One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood" he replied quietly.

"I was there that day" Ser Barristan spoke recalling the event. "You were only a squire at the time, sixteen years old." The older man's pride was evident in the way he spoke. Jaime's face took on a softer expression at the old man's praise.

"You killed Simon Torin with a countery pass" Jaime mused with a fond expression, "best move I ever saw."

"Good fighter Torin" Ser Barristan recalled with a faint smile "but he lacked stamina."

Amarah found herself smiling at their memories of war and killing. A subject that would normally seem most gruesome, but their mutual respect of one another came across in the way they regarded each other's accomplishments. Much different to her father's own bitter musings of wars gone by and his strength with it.

"Your outlaw" the King interrupted their praise giving. "Any last words?"

"I cut his head off, so no." Jaime replied with a smug smile. At almost any other time, Amarah would have found Kingslayer's pride insufferable, but in the face of her father's displeasure she found it perversely amusing. Giving a burst of laughter at his reply she promptly restored her serene expression once the men's gazes all swung in her direction. But she thought she glimpsed something not entirely unpleasant in the Kingslayer's eyes before he withdrew his gaze.

"What about Arys Targaryen?" the King asked to further provoke his guard. "What did the mad king say before you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?"

The room was silent for a few moments after this query. Amarah turned her gaze toward the Kinglsayer's golden face as he contemplated the King's smug expression. With no change in expression whatsoever he gave his reply.

"He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. 'Burn them all.'"

Even her father was struck silent in the face of this admission. Jaime had never before discussed the circumstances of his betrayal, but Amarah had never suspected that he had done it out of any motive other than selfishness. His reply could have been to silence the King, or he could have been telling the truth. However, as he was a Lannister, she was inclined to believe the former.

"That's all your grace" he said in face of the King's silence. For several more moments, no one spoke a word.

"I think we've all heard enough of war stories for now" Amarah finally said breaking the silence. "I find the subject most unsettling."

After saying this she promptly rose to leave, finding that the air now reeked of masculine pride and competition. It was worse than watching a tournament with blood and bone flying in all directions. These hits were more precise. Scored with words rather than lances, and she wished to hear it no longer.

"I gave you no leave to go" her father said turning his frustration on her.

"I don't recall asking it" she replied in a frosty tone.

"You can't leave before telling us your own tale, my girl" he returned in a dangerously low voice. "Tell us about your first kill."

It took every ounce of her self control not to respond to her father's spiteful words. She thought her head might explode at the effort to maintain an unaffected expression while on the inside she was seething in anger and hurt. The incident her father referred to had been one she had made perfectly clear she would rather forget, but it appeared he was not prepared to do so.

Ser Barristan and Jaime Lannister turned to her with matching expressions of surprise and doubt. She regarded their faces a moment before telling her own tale.

"I was ten years old at the time; it happened after my father had summoned me to the capital. We traveled along the King's Road and stopped to set up camp along the way. One night, a beggar boy snuck into the camp and tried to steal a wheel of cheese from one of our wagons, my wagon. I was so frightened in those days, I slept with a dagger hidden under my pillow. The one Uncle Ned had given me before our departure to King's Landing. I heard a noise somewhere in the dark and swung blindly with my dagger. I pierced him right through the heart" she said with blunt clarity. As she recited the tale, again she could see his face in the light of the full moon. A face she had seen only too late after what had been done. His lifeless eyes staring up at her.

"He couldn't have been more than six years old" she said aloud more to herself than anyone else. "Only a child."

She could never forget seeing his face and the shock that had come over her. The guilt that haunted her from that day had never left her troubled mind. There were few things Amarah Baratheon regretted in life but killing that boy was one choice she would have sold her soul to the seven hells to go back and change. Only this time no amount of bartering could restore the life she had taken. "If you think that is something to be proud of" she said turning to her father, "then you are heartless fool as well as a drunken one."

Ser Barristan and Jaime looked a bit taken aback at her venomous words spoken in such a casual tone as if she were discussing the weather or how many chickens to buy at market. Her father however, just stared at her with an expression she had not seen in ages. Regret.

Without another word she turned to leave and Jaime moved to open the door for her departure. Turning to look at her father once more, she imagined she could almost see a glimmer of sadness in his eyes before she moved to leave. With that last glance at her father's sorrowful expression, she felt something she hadn't even thought possible that very morning. She felt the faint stirrings of hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** _Here's another chapter. Some risqué banter between Amarah and our favorite Kingslayer in this one. I have a ton of fun writing dialogue between those two. Just FYI, the interaction between them will be pretty light in these first several chapters since the main focus in the beginning of the story is on her family relationships and how those shape her as a person. But the romance with Jaime will definitely come into play later on down the road. Both characters need to do some growing first before that happens. Enjoy and please review! (Warning for a small amount of pretty explicit language in this one)_

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"Are you coming to see the joust with us?"

Amarah was enjoying a leisurely stroll towards the tournament grounds when she heard the eager question over the faraway din of exited revelers. Looking down she saw the adorable, chubby face of little prince Tommen Baratheon.

"Of course" she answered in a serious voice scooping him up into her arms as he gave a delighted squeal. "How could I call myself a Baratheon and miss out on the most entertaining spectacle in the seven kingdoms?"

"The tournaments frighten me" young Myrcella confessed quietly as she walked along side both of them. She was a quiet thing, the very opposite of her two brothers.

"There is nothing wrong with being uncomfortable about the possibility of one man taking another's life" Amarah tried to reassure her. "It means you have a compassionate heart."

Myrcella turned to regard her with a woeful expression. "Mother says compassion is weakness in a queen."

"Well she would say that wouldn't she?" Amarah mused aloud thinking of the unforgiving woman who uttered the words. "But you're not a queen are you, little sister? So therefore it is not a weakness."

"I suppose not" the golden princess reasoned to herself in light of Amarah's sound logic.

Looking at Myrcella and Tommen's angelic faces, Amarah wondered at how they could be such good children considering their parents and older brother. What if they became like their mother and father or even worse, that little shit Joffrey? Shuddering at the thought she moved the conversation back to more pleasant topics.

"I hear you have a new pet?" she said brightly to the little lad in her arms.

"Oh yes!" He turned excitedly in her arms to tell her all about his new tabby one of the servants had given him. As Tommen began to tell her all manner of wonderful stories about the little animal they were suddenly interrupted by a harsh voice.

"Tommen" the queen reprimanded him sternly while striding towards them. "You are old enough to walk to the tournament yourself. You do not need to be carried about."

"We were only having a bit of fun" Amarah turned to the displeased queen to defend the prince. "Surely you remember how to do that."

"Put him down" was all the reply she received. Giving a sigh of resignation she decided to release the boy in favor of avoiding another confrontation with the queen. Unfortunately after her previous remark that was most likely unavoidable now.

"Go on" she told both children as they looked at her with trepidation. Most people who crossed Cersei were not the better for it afterward. Their concern touched her but was unnecessary. She was more than capable of defending herself. After a small hesitation they continued toward the part of the field set up for the joust. Turning back to the queen Amarah braced herself for yet another unpleasant clash of wills.

"How dare you speak to me like that in front of my children?" the queen hissed.

"It was not my intention to be disrespectful I assure you" Amarah returned with chilling politeness.

Cersei regarded her with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. "Oh, I am very certain of that. Remember my dear, do not cross me or you will regret it."

"I would venture not" Amarah returned with a pleasant smile failing to rise to Cersei's attempts to bait her temper.

"Do you think yourself better than me?" the queen whispered in a menacing tone as she approached Amarah slowly, reminding her of a lion stalking its prey. Only in this instance the lion was Cersei and Amarah the prey.

"I don't _think_ anything" she replied, leaving the implication that she was sure of the fact. "You may try to frighten me into submission all you like, my lady, but we both know you cannot touch me."

"Take care" Cersei continued in that deadly whisper as she circled around Amarah. "Your father will not always be here to protect you. And I assure you once he is gone you will never be safe from me."

Turning swiftly around Amarah looked the queen boldly in the eye moving mere inches from her face. "And let me assure you, _my queen_" she spoke the title with disdain as if it were poison on her lips. "I do not care. There are few things I fear in this life and you are not one of them."

Undaunted by Amarah's flippancy towards her threat the queen only responded with a menacing smile. "We shall see."

With those words she left abruptly as she had appeared. As Amarah watched the queen strut away she felt an uneasy feeling begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. She had spoken falsely when she claimed she had no fear of Cersei. The fact was clear that the queen hated her for whatever reason, but with her father on the throne Amarah was reassured of her safety.

However, the queen's threat had started her mind in an unpleasant direction. How much longer _would_ the king live? He was a fat fool who spent his days doing nothing but drinking wine by the flagon full and bedding whores. Surely those factors combined with his position of power in the kingdoms did not ensure a long, prosperous existence. With the king gone there would be no stop to Cersei's treachery and no one to stand between her and those she hated.

"Why so serious, princess?" a sardonic tone startled her from the dark thoughts. "Do you not look forward to the joust?"

Turning around to see Jaime Lannister regarding her with his usual mocking smile she returned it with one of her own.

"What is there to look forward to without _your_ presence on the field?" she replied with a falsely sweet smile. "Why is that I suppose? Surely you don't fear being bested twice by a mere boy."

She caught a quick glimpse of irritation flash through his eyes but it was gone as swiftly as it appeared. "Of course not. I could best Loras Tyrell blindfolded sitting backwards. He would not have unseated me the last tournament if he hadn't cheated. I simply grow tired of the stale competition that has to resort to underhanded methods to win. It is a waste of my considerable talent."

"Why is it whenever one man is bested by another he always cries foul?" she pondered seemingly to herself but loudly enough for him to hear.

"The lady knows I'm right" Jaime said in an unconcerned tone despite her pretend ignorance of Loras's dishonorable methods of winning. It was well known among court that that the young Tyrell often twisted the rules of competition in order to gain the upper hand. She would hardly be surprised if he had some other trick up his sleeve this day to conquer his opponents but she would not admit it. Giving an indifferent shrug of her shoulders at Jaime's insistence she waited for him to break the silence once again.

"Though I can imagine your disappointment at my absence" he drawled as he approached her with a lazy stride. "Does watching me cut others down excite you, my lady? Does it make you want to hitch of those pretty skirts and let me inside? I've heard it said if a man tries to get inside you his cock will freeze before it falls off. Would you like me to prove them wrong?"

Stung by his coarse words Amarah refused to let her resentment show as she tilted her head to regard him with a longing expression that was anything by genuine. "How well you see through me, Kingslayer" she replied using the title that never failed to set off an angry tick in his jaw. "I see you on the field of battle and can't overcome the indecent thoughts that fill my head. What if it were me you were riding instead of that mighty beast between your legs?" She spoke this last sentence with breathless excitement before her brow furrowed in mock concentration as if she had suddenly remembered an important thought. "But… then I think of you sitting on your arse in a field of mud as a pretty boy crows over his victory and my passion is suddenly diminished."

"Just admit it, princess" Jaime pressed seemingly unaffected by her stab at his manhood. "You long to have me inside that ice cold cunt of yours."

Narrowing her eyes to slits she leaned towards him and whispered seductively, "I'd rather fuck the Hound."

"I'm sure he would enjoy it" Jaime returned in the same seductive tone.

"I'm certain he would" she replied before turning to walk away. "That is until his cock falls off."

Tossing these last few nonchalant words over her shoulder, she strode away from the golden knight. Giving a reluctant smile of admiration once he was sure she could no longer see him, Jaime departed the field to return to the keep.

Having already forgotten her encounter with Kingslayer, Amarah carefully climbed the makeshift wooden platform that was to hold the royal family as they observed the tournament before them. As she approached she saw that the field had erupted into a bit of chaos.

"Where the devil 'ave you been?" her father groused from his perch. The chair beside him was empty as the queen must have already tired of the sport.

"Perusing" was her only answer as she took the chair by Joffrey on the right hand of the wooden dais.

"What in the seven hells has happened here?" she questioned aloud.

"The mountain has killed a man" came Joffrey's gleeful reply.

"So soon?" she asked in surprise. "How odd. He usually at least waits until the end of the tournament."

"It was all very bloody" Joffrey went on to explain with sadistic joy. "The lance snapped and buried itself in the knight's neck. It was quite a messy sight."

"Who was the knight?" she questioned him out of immediate curiosity.

Joffrey gave an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders before the Hound replied to her inquiry. "The late Jon Arryn's squire. Don't remember the name. He was recently promoted to knighthood."

"Well he's not much of anything now I suppose" Amarah murmured heartlessly as the dead man was carted off the field. She was almost loathed to admit it but the sight of so much death over the years had made her almost immune to feelings of sympathy over the fallen. Once she had felt compassion for the dead nameless knights, but the more she saw fall the less she sympathized. After all, it was their foolish decision to place themselves in harm's way. As long as the dead body was not hers she could not be bothered with much concern over it.

She found it most interesting however that the man to have killed him was under direct control of the Lannister family. Gregor Clegane, also known as "The Mountain" to whom Joffrey had referred, had been in service of the Lannister family for quite some time. She thought his death a useless gesture on their part as the boy was unlikely to give any information against them, but she supposed that it was easier to dispose of him than leave any loose ends. Intrigue could sometimes be a bloody business.

It took some time before the festivities commenced again after the unexpected interruption. As the crowd waited, Amarah looked about the field for her Uncle Ned. She was anxious to talk with him after some very disturbing reports had reached her ears, but unfortunately he was no where to be found. Curbing her irritation, she sat back and waited for her father to reappear. He had announced after the delay that he intended to joust in the tournament. Amarah was fairly certain that Ned had disappeared to talk some sense into him.

Her suspicions were confirmed once her father reappeared a short time later and she saw her Uncle join Sansa in the stands near where the royal family sat. She withheld the urge to roll her eyes at Sansa's obvious fascination for Loras Tyrell the Knight of Flowers. He looked positively ridiculous in his frivolous armor but Sansa was blinded by his beauty. Amarah looked away as she saw him grace her cousin with a red rose. Unfortunately for Sansa that particular knight would never be the one of her dreams. Amarah had also dreamed of knights once, but that was before she had awakened to the realities of a cruel world.

"No joust then?" she turned to address her father her father with a sly smile.

"I thought it best to let the men enjoy themselves without interferin'" came the gruff reply.

"Couldn't fit into the armor then" she stated more than asked before giving her attention once again to the field.

Giving a loud bark of laughter at her insolence the king joined her in looking on as the Mountain prepared to defeat the young Knight of Flowers. Unlike the Mountain however, Amarah knew that Loras was seated atop a mare in heat. A most devious trick to be sure but an unsurprising move from the young knight. As she had predicted, Loras's mare startled Clegane's mount just enough for him to unseat the much larger knight. What she did not predict however was the melee that followed.

Never one to take defeat lightly, Gregor Clegane proceeded to attack the young Tyrell on foot with his broad sword hacking off his own mount's head in the process. Amarah noted that the young Tyrell looked so frightened he was probably pissing himself right at that very moment. He might have had the advantage on the field through trickery but no chicanery would aid him in a hand-to-hand fight with the mighty Mountain.

As Amarah looked on in detached interest the Hound leaped from behind Joffrey to spare the young knight's life by goading his brother into fighting him instead. At this development, her father decided he had seen enough. Ordering them to stop, the youngest Clegane dropped to his knees in obedience just as his older brother's sword wooshed over his have burnt head. Amarah gave a small sigh of relief once she saw that the broad sword had missed the Hound. She could feel detachment from the death of a nameless knight but she would prefer not to observe the death of one she had been acquainted with for quite some years. She was far from considering Sandor Clegane a friend but she still admired him in a perverse sort of way.

After the skirmish came to an end Gregor Clegane trudged away in disgust at the outcome as Loras Tyrell applauded the Hound's bravery much to the latter's annoyance. Amarah gave an amused smile at his discomfort. However, in spite of her amusement, she had the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that a cloud hung over the proceedings. A storm was coming. She didn't know when and she didn't know how. She only knew she must be prepared.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_Another chapter here again. Let me know what you guys think! I like hearing from readers. Hope y'all like it:)_

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The stone hallway echoed with sounds of heavy breathing and the rapid fall of footsteps as Amarah Baratheon quickly made her way to her father's chambers. She could hardly believe the latest report that had reached her ears and she intended to confront him to see if it was indeed true.

As she approached his chamber she halted in surprise at the sight of Jaime Lannister. His presence here seemed to indicate that he was not aware of the recent report from the ravens regarding Tyrion. Masking her startled reaction at his presence she approached him slowly. As she drew near he regarded her with surprise he did not bother to hide.

"Here to see the king?" he asked her with raised brows. She assumed his surprise stemmed from the fact that she had never sought out her father's company unless it was specifically requested that she attend him in his chambers.

"No" she answered with sarcastic impatience. "I thought I would come here and stare at you for amusement."

"Well I could hardly blame you for…' but she interrupted him before he could finish the thought.

"I'm in no mood for games, Ser Jaime. I wish to see my father _now_." Her use of his proper name must have been startling enough to spur him into action for he opened the door to the king's chambers without another word. Spotting her father behind his desk nursing a glass of wine she marched over with deadly intent.

"Get out" she told the half-wit Lancel without giving him so much as a glance. She must have sounded quite frightening because the next thing she heard was him scuffling out the door as quick as those skinny legs could manage.

"Is it true?" she asked without any preamble.

"Is what true?" the king replied in an angry tone. "What do you mean by interruptin' me here in the middle of the day with a question like that?"

"Oh forgive my interruption to your tedious work of drinking, shitting, and fucking" she replied throwing his earlier words back in his face. "Is it true you released Uncle Ned from his duties?"

"He defied me!" Robert stood up roaring across the wooden table. "And don't you defend him to me, girl!"

"Defied you?" she asked with incredulous disbelief. "When have you ever done anything worth defying? You sit on your arse all day getting fat and spending the kingdom's money on drink and whores!"

Her father's angry expression only became stormier at her words. "If you were not my daughter I would have you killed for that."

"Oh but without me how would you remember your precious Lyanna" she replied with a sneer. After hearing the news about Uncle Ned, it seemed like all the resentment she had built up against her father since he had abandoned her all those years ago had come rushing to the forefront.

"What do you mean?" he demanded as if he was confused by what she said.

"Don't pretend, Father, and make fools of us both. You only care about me because I remind you of the only person you ever loved besides yourself. You've made me into a living memory of your dead wife. I'm not a person to you but a shrine. Something to be looked at and admired to remind you of the woman you lost. You care nothing for me. Only the one who carried me in her womb with your seed."

"That's your mother your speakin' about" he said in a warning tone.

"And _your_ wife" she threw back. "But the difference is _I_ never knew her. _I_ never loved her."

Sitting back down most likely due to shock over what he had just heard, Robert regarded her with an astounded expression. "How dare you say such a thing about your own mother?"

"How dare I?" she repeated. "How can I love someone I have never known? How can I love the woman who was the reason you rejected me as a child? The only mother I've ever known was Catelyn Stark, but you saw to that the day you abandoned me at Winterfell. You could not bear to look into the face of a child that reminded you of your loss. So you left me without a word. It didn't matter that I cried and screamed and pleaded for you to take me with you. No, the only father I had ever known left me without a second glance. _Why_ do I not love the mother I've never known? Because of _you_, my king. Because of you."

His irate expression had slowly morphed into one as disbelief as her rant had continued on. Once she had run out of accusations to hurl in his face he was silent for a few moments as if pondering what she had just said. "You think I left you there because I couldn't stand to look at you?" he asked still in seeming disbelief.

"What other reason could you have had for such an unfeeling act?" Her voice shook with the rage she was trying to suppress.

"I left you there to keep you safe, my girl" he said finally rising from his seat and slowly walking around the desk to where she stood. "After the war was over and we found your mother dead, I was stricken with grief. When we returned to Winterfell where you were stayin' with your aunt and little cousin Robb, all I could think was 'She was safe here. She'll always be safe here.' And I left you because I was too afraid to have you near me. Do you know what I was thinkin' while you cried and screamed behind me?" he asked, his voice raising as he grabbed her by the shoulders and hugged her to him. Amarah could barely contain her shock over his actions. After the terrible things she had just said she wouldn't have been surprised if he had decided to lock her up for weeks without bread and water. But here he was trying to comfort her. It was all quite confusing to her agitated mind.

"All the way down the path I heard your screams and they tore into my heart like a thousand daggers. You were the thing left in this world I loved most and I had to leave you where I knew you would be safest. I knew you would be sad, even angry, but I never thought you would hate me for it."

Pulling away to look her father in the eyes Amarah wondered if he could be telling the truth. But why would he have reason to lie? Still confused by the admission she shook her head in bewilderment. "Then why tear me away from the only home I had ever known? Why take me from where I was safe? Why keep me from the m…" but she broke off quickly before finishing that last thought. Her love for Robb was her secret alone.

"Things had settled down by then" he said gazing over her shoulder as if seeing the events unfold before him. Looking back at her he continued. "I missed you. I didn't think you would resent me for it."

"Why did you never tell me any of this?" she asked in a much calmer voice than before.

"Because it made me sound weak" he replied with a resigned shrug. "No man wants anyone to think him weak. Not even his own daughter."

"I wouldn't have thought that."

Looking at her with a sad smile he shook his head. "Yes you would have, my girl. Better for you to think me a heartless king than a weak-minded fool."

Smarting from the unintended insult that loving her was a weakness, Amarah suddenly remembered the reason for her visit. Deciding the conversation was becoming too sentimental for her taste, Amarah stubbornly shoved the feelings of resentment inside once again in order to return to the topic at hand. "How did Uncle Ned defy you?"

"I'll not talk to you of matters regarding the council" he replied returning to his gruff demeanor. "It's not a woman's place to know these things."

Suppressing the urge to defend her sex Amarah continued to badger him for the truth. "You know if you do not tell me I will simply find out on my own."

"Fine" he answered with a sigh of resignation. "Your uncle was against my plans to kill the Targaryen girl."

"Daenerys Targaryen?"

"How do you know about her?" Robert asked in surprise.

"I know much more than you give me credit for" she replied. Without waiting for his response to that revelation she continued on. "Why kill Daenerys Targaren? She's only a girl. What threat could she be to you?"

"She's married a Dothraki barbarian and she's got his child in her belly" he defended his actions. "She'll come here and take my throne if we don't stop her now."

"And how do you expect she'll arrive?" Amarah questioned. "On the wings of a dragon? A Dothraki horde can ride many places but not across the sea."

Her father gave her a hard, displeased look over her assessment of his plans. "I warn you. Don't mock me, girl. I did what has to be done."

"What has to be done? I think you would take any excuse to kill a Targaryen. That girl is not the reason my mother died. She was only a child at the time. If Daenerys Targaryen ever does decide to take the throne you'll be dead and gone by the time she raises the strength necessary to claim it. The only one that needs to fear her if Joffrey, and I doubt he'd be a better ruler in any case."

"Be careful" he warned. "That's your brother you're speakin' about. He may be useless and worthless but he's still my son." Amarah decided to hold her tongue over that particular sentiment.

"Change your order, father" she urged him in a reasonable tone. "Daenerys Targaryen poses no threat to you, but if you persist with this ridiculous plan, Uncle Ned will leave King's Landing. He is the only person in this city honorable enough to trust. You cannot lose that."

"I'll think about it" was the only promise she could induce him to give. Giving him a quick hug and peck on the cheek she urged him to make amends with Ned.

"Don't go on about it now" he waved her off. "I'll call him in as soon as he comes back from the gods know where. I haven't seen him since our argument over this whole business."

Thanking her father once again for seeing reason Amarah departed with other matters on her mind that needed to be settled. As soon as she had exited her father's chambers she turned to regard Jaime Lannister who still stood at his post. He was looking her with a most curious expression that caused her to forget momentarily her trepidation of broaching a dangerous subject with him. However, the curious expression was gone as quickly as it appeared before he returned to his old, mocking self.

He regarded her baffled expression with curiosity. "Something else, princess?"

"As a matter-of-fact there is something else."

"And what might that be? Finally ready to take me up on that offer? I'm sure the king wouldn't notice if I just slipped you into that darkened corridor and taught you the ways a woman pleases a man."

"Seven hells!" she said in disgust at his behavior. "Can you not be serious for one moment? Must you always be such a vile beast?"

Laughing at her irritation he attempted to put on a more serious expression. "Pray tell me, princess, what is so important that you must discuss with me."

"It concerns Tyrion" she said almost too quietly for him to hear.

At hearing his brother's name, Jaime's mocking expression became deadly serious. "What about my brother?" She hesitated for a moment wondering about the wisdom of sharing this information with him. She knew how dangerous he could be and she feared for whom he decided to punish for the recent transgression against his brother.

"I asked you a question, princess. What about my brother?" As she had already mentioned the matter it was too late to turn back now.

"He's been taken captive" she said in the same quiet tone so that he had to lean forward to catch the words.

The serious expression on his face was swiftly turning into one of anger. While that same expression from her father just moments before had frightened her not at all, she was suddenly overcome by a feeling of imminent danger. She must tread carefully with this man or those she loved would pay dearly for it.

"And who would be stupid enough to take a Lannister captive?"

"Lady Catelyn Stark." She didn't realize until after she had replied that she had inadvertently called her aunt stupid.

Oblivious to her distress, Jaime continued to press her for answers. "Where did this happen? On whose orders?"

"Stop shouting at me, Kingslayer!" She was becoming increasingly annoyed with his behavior. She still feared the anger in his eyes but she doubted he would strike her down in front of the king's chambers.

"You would do best to answer the questions, princess." As he spoke he leaned forward as close as their positions would allow. There was no hint of seduction in his gaze now. Only menacing fury. If he was trying to frighten her, it was working most admirably, but she determined not to let him see her fear.

"You should be grateful I brought this to your attention, Kingslayer." She pressed on again before he could interrupt with more threats. "I am telling you this because you are the only other person who cares enough for Tyrion to do anything about it. Lady Catelyn took him captive sometime yesterday at an inn on the kingsroad. She accused him of treachery against the Starks by attempting to kill Bran. I love my aunt but when it comes to her family she can be very fierce. I fear for the safety of Tyrion's life."

"On whose orders was this done?" His voice was kept low to keep others from hearing but she could hear the irate fury in his question.

"I do not know."

"Was it Ned Stark?" Frightened by the deadly intent in his eyes at the mention of her Uncle's name, she leaped to defend his honor.

"My uncle would never have made a decision as rash as this!"

"I hope for his sake he has not" Jaime replied in a menacing tone.

He started to leave soon after these ominous words. "Where are you going?"

"To question Lord Stark about what I have just heard."

Running towards his quickly retreating figure, she quickly stepped in front of him. His glare would have stopped a lesser woman but Amarah would not be cowed by him.

"Do not kill him" was the only warning she gave.

"And how do you intend to stop me? He's not the Hand of the King anymore. He doesn't have the protection of the crown, and if my brother has been harmed he will pay for it with his head."

Pushed from paralyzing fear into rage over his arrogant words Amarah stood her ground. "I warn you, Kingslayer. If you take his life I will make you pay."

"You have no hope in the seven hells of killing me, princess" he replied with that arrogant smirk.

"Who said anything about killing you? The way to wound is through the heart. If my uncle dies then I will make you long for something as sweet as death."

"Very brave, my lady, but I will deal with your Uncle however I see fit no matter what you threaten me with."

He started to walk away again before she tried one last attempt to reason with him. "Do you know why people hate you?" He halted momentarily at her words. "They say you have no honor. The Kingslayer who would break his vows to kill the man he swore to protect has shit for honor. I did not have to tell you about Tyrion's capture but I did because I care about him and I knew you were the only other person in the seven kingdoms who felt the same. I paid you a kindness in this. Do not repay my kindness to save someone you love with the death of one I love. Prove you have some honor, Lannister."

He didn't turn back to look at her but she knew he heard. After a few moments of torturous silence he spoke. "I'll make you no promises not to hurt him."

"Just don't kill him." She was not foolish enough to ask for more than that. Jaime Lannister in a rage was the most unreasonable man in all of Westeros.

After these last words the Lion of Lannister left her there with only the sound of his retreating footsteps. As he departed, Amarah did something she had not attempted in quite some time. She prayed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **_Here's another one! Unfortunately Jaimee will be absentee for several chapters but that's pretty much unavoidable. Don't worry though. The reunion will definitely be worth it:) I finally got some Stark family interaction into this chapter so enjoy!_

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"Feeling any better?" Amarah asked a bit more loudly than necessary to rouse her sleeping uncle.

Giving a groan of frustration at his interrupted slumber, Ned Stark slowly cracked open his eyes to find his niece leaning over his bedside with a concerned frown. With an obvious amount of effort he struggled into a sitting position in order to see her better.

"My leg feels as if it's on fire" he muttered. Rubbing his hand up and down the thigh of his injured leg, he seemed to want to ensure that the offended limb was still in tact.

Grimacing at his obvious distress Amarah held in check the sudden urge to blurt out the entire story. She wanted to apologize for setting off Jaime Lannister in the fit of rage that had triggered the entire bloody incident. When she heard from her father that several of Ned's men had been slain by Lannister guards including her old friend Jory Cassel she was ashamed of her part in causing their deaths.

"I'm sorry" she finally admitted with a downcast gaze.

"Sorry for what, Amarah?" her uncle asked squeezing her hand in gentle comfort.

Unable to bear his kind touch after playing a part in his misery, she quickly jerked her hand out of his warm grasp. Wincing at his wounded expression towards her icy response she began to explain what had happened.

"I don't deserve your kindness, Uncle" she whispered still unable to meet his gaze. "None of this would have happened if not for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I was the one who told Jaime Lannister about Tyrion. I was the reason he attacked you."

After admitting this Amarah could not bear to look up and see the disappointment in her uncle's gaze. Once he realized her treachery he would never be able to forgive her.

"Amarah" she heard his gentle voice as he recaptured her chilly hand once again. "Jaime Lannister would have discovered the news of his brother's capture regardless of your help. It would have changed nothing at all if you had held your tongue."

Shaking her head at his insistence that she had done nothing wrong, Amarah continued to stare at his callused hand holding her pale, delicate one. "I still feel as if I played some part in Jory's death."

"His death was no one's fault but Jaime Lannister's" he said more forcefully, this time grasping her chin to force her ashamed gaze to his. "Do not let yourself think otherwise."

"Did he die quickly?" she couldn't stop herself from asking. She had to know that Jaime had not forced him to die a painful death.

Understanding her need to know, Ned answered quickly. "Yes. He did not suffer."

Giving him a shaky smile at that reassurance she nodded her head in acknowledgement. "That is good."

Amarah had fond memories of Jory Cassel from her childhood. She had remembered his helping her small trio when they had tried to borrow a horse from the stable to pretend that Robb was a brave knight and she and Jon his faithful squires. He had procured a small pony for each child to take turns riding as the knight in a dangerous joust, and he had helped hide the evidence once the disapproving stable master had gotten wind of their mischief.

Jory always had a kind word for the quiet, shy little girl that had wandered the grounds in her early years at Winterfell, and Amarah had only good memories of the gentle man. Thinking of his handsome face and kind smile she found it hard to suppress the rage and disappointment she felt when she thought of Jaime Lannister taking his life so unfairly.

He had honored his word not to kill her uncle but he had caused as much devastation to the Stark house as that promise would allow. Amarah did not understand the man's enjoyment over taking the lives of others. She remembered his face as he left her that day in search of Ned. The anticipation there. The thrill of the hunt. She would never understand ruthless men like Jaime Lannister and she never wished to.

"Why did you tell him?"

"What?" She had somehow lost track of their conversation in her wandering thoughts.

"Jaime Lannister. Why did you tell him about his brother?" her uncle clarified.

"Because I was worried about him… Tyrion that is, not Kingslayer" she hastened to clarify. "Why would Aunt Cat think that he was responsible for what happened to Bran?"

Taking a deep breath, her uncle proceeded to explain the recent assassination attempt on Bran's life and how the knife used in the attempt belonged to Tyrion Lannister. Surprised at the tale, Amarah could not help but defend her friend.

"Uncle" she began in a pragmatic tone. "Tyrion Lannister is one of the smartest men of my acquaintance. I find it hard to believe that he would try to assassinate Bran with a weapon that could so easily be traced back to him. Who told you the dagger was his?"

"Peter Baelish."

"Littlefinger?" she asked, using the man's more well known nickname. Peter Baelish was the owner of the whore house where Ned and his men had been attacked by the Lannisters. She had never liked the cunning fox and she doubted his honesty regarding the dagger in question. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that Lannister won the dagger in a tournament betting on Loras Tyrell against his brother."

"Well he was telling you a falsehood" she replied without hesitation. She had suspected the man of dishonesty but her uncle's tale confirmed it. "Tyrion Lannister never bets against his brother in the joust. He would be a fool to do so. Whatever Littlefinger's intentions he did not tell you the truth about that dagger. Please take my advice, Uncle, as it will be of great benefit to you in this city of lies and corruption. Never trust a pimp, especially if he is Peter Baelish."

"What would be his reason to lie?" her uncle questioned still unconvinced.

"I would never attempt to guess Littlefinger's reasons for doing anything, but would you take his word over mine?"

"Of course not" Ned hastened to reassure her. "But this means we have more questions about the attempts on Bran's life than when we first began."

"I will look into the matter for you, but I can assure you whoever was behind it was _not _Tyrion Lannister" Amarah informed him. "You must tell Aunt Catelyn to release him immediately."

"I'm afraid that's not possible" he said in an apologetic tone. "I didn't tell your father but I don't know where she's taken him. They were supposed to return to Winterfell but there has been no news of them."

"If she kills him it will be war between you and the Lannisters" she warned him. "I doubt my father would appreciate the inconvenience."

"He said as much when I asked to hunt down Jaime Lannister for what he did to my men" Ned agreed.

Shaking her head at Jaime's stupidity, Amarah wondered again what the man had been thinking. "I was foolish to think he would try to peacefully negotiate Tyrion's release. The moment I mentioned what happened he was out for blood. It amazes me that so clever a man can make the most thoughtless decisions. He did not even ponder the consequences before running out to attack you."

"Aye" her uncle replied. "I pray my wife does not make the same mistake or there will be no telling what the Lannisters will do. Jaime might very well come back and finish me off then."

"Tyrion will find a way out. He has a very keen instinct for survival." She had to believe that. She refused to contemplate any other possibility. Her uncle didn't look as if he shared her optimistic view of Tyrion's fate but she decided to let the subject drop.

"There was another matter I needed to discuss with you."

He raised his brows in a silent query.

"What do you mean by visiting my father's bastards?"

He looked momentarily surprised at her chosen topic of conversation but recovered quickly enough to supply an answer. "I am trying to discover what led to Jon Arryn's death. It seems he made similar visits before his untimely passing."

"Let me see if I rightly understand you" she said in a voice of disbelief. "You have discovered that the former Hand of the King visited a good number of my father's bastards before his untimely, mysterious death and you have decided to do the same?" When he did not refute it she continued on. "Are you _mad_?"

"I am simply trying to uncover the truth" he defended himself.

"Let it be, Uncle. He is dead. Getting yourself killed will be of no help to him." She knew she sounded uncaring but she meant every word. Her uncle was too noble for his own good and while it may have been of credit to him in the North it would do him no favors in this city.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he asked in a tone heavily laden with censure. "Do you know how unjust you sound? I shouldn't pursue justice for a good man because it is an inconvenience for me. I taught you better than that."

Though his words pricked her conscience her they did not change her mind. "How can you be of any help to Jon Arryn if you get yourself killed by going about it this way? There are spies everywhere in this city, uncle. Even _I_ have informants lurking in places one would least expect. How do you think I know of your visit to see young Gendry and the whore's child at the brothel? If I know you are looking into Jon Arryn's death then I assure you that whoever orchestrated his demise knows as well and they will not hesitate to stop you at whatever cost."

"I don't play games, Amarah" he sighed. "I must do this the way I see fit. I'll have no part of secrecy and lies. The little girl I knew nine years ago would have had no part in it either."

Hurt by his assessment of her character Amarah did not hesitate to defend herself. "The child you knew nine years ago no longer exists. This place is not Winterfell. It is a seat of lies and corruption and that girl had to learn to adapt in order to survive. I would suggest you do the same."

Not wanting to hear how else he was disappointed in the woman she had become Amarah quickly turned to leave, but before she was five steps from the bed she heard him speak again.

"You may have changed but you are still my family and I still love you. I don't want you to think any different."

Turning back for a moment, she gave him with a weary smile before bending to kiss his unshaven cheek. "I love you too, you honorable fool. Get some rest now. You will have to be up and about as soon as possible. I hear you've been reinstated as Hand."

Ned gave a wry laugh before settling back down to sleep. "I wasn't given much choice in the matter. Your father threatened to give it to Jaime Lannister if I refused."

"The seven preserve us" Amarah said with a shudder at the thought. As she turned to leave once again she heard her uncle mumble something before he drifted off to sleep about Arya wanting to speak with her.

Exiting quietly so as not to disturb him, Amarah went off in search of her little cousin. She had seen very little of Arya since returning to the city. A disgruntled Sansa had informed her that Arya was spending a great deal of time practicing with her "dancing instructor" Syrio Forel, a Braavosi swordsman that Ned had engaged to teach Arya.

Amarah was unsurprised at Arya's desire to learn swordplay. After the incident with Joffrey and Arya's wolf Nymeria, she didn't have to imagine who Arya might hope to practice her new skills on. Smiling inwardly at the thought of Arya attacking Joffrey, she approached the large, great room of the Hand's quarters where she heard the loud clack of wooden swords.

In the center of the room Arya was busy on the defense as Syrio pursued her relentlessly around a small, imaginary circle. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible so as not to distract the girl, Amarah slid silently into the room. With a valiant effort, Arya fought off her teacher's attacks but eventually her arm slipped just enough for Syrio to undermine her defenses. Amarah had to quickly step aside to avoid the wooden sword that came hurtling in her direction.

Seeing who he had almost struck with the flying makeshift weapon, Syrio quickly asked her pardon.

"It's of no matter" she assured him. "I think I shall recover from the shock well enough. Do you mind if I speak with my cousin?"

"Of course not. We are done with our lesson for now." He turned to give Arya a quick bow and final instruction. "Continue our practice of the dance."

Once he had departed after these few cryptic words, she moved to sit at the round table by the large open balcony. Arya quickly moved to join her. Looking down at the wooden surface, Amarah saw a multitude small knife points carved into the top.

"Part of your practice?" she asked with a suspicious smile.

"I was picturing Sansa's face" Arya replied.

"Arya" she chided her. "Sansa is your sister. You should not say such things."

Arya seemed to be in an argumentative mood. "But Joffrey is your brother. Have you never said nasty things about him?"

"Not out loud" she admitted. "But Sansa is not Joffrey. Believe me, your sister might be inclined to temporary foolishness but she is a good person. There might be a day when you regret saying hurtful things about her."

Arya simply brushed off her concerns. "I don't want to talk about Sansa. I need to tell you about father."

"What about him?" Amarah asked patiently.

"Yesterday I was exploring near the dragon heads in the lower part of the city. While I was there I heard two men talking. One was fat and the other bald. I didn't understand most of what they said but I heard them say something about killing father."

"Did you see either of their faces?" Amarah questioned intrigued by her cousin's story.

Arya shook her head no. "I tried to tell father but he didn't listen. I think something bad is going to happen to him."

"Arya, nothing will happen to your father. He's well aware of how to defend himself against fat and bald men" she said with a playful grin.

Her little cousin gave a reluctant smile. "Well fat men do make easier targets."

"That they do" Amarah replied with a small chuckle. "Take care you don't speak of this to anyone else though. It's best to keep knowledge to yourself. The more secrets you keep the more powerful you are."

"I like that" Arya replied with a smile. "I like fighting with swords too. Sansa can keep her princes."

"How very wise of you" Amarah returned with grave seriousness. "Swords are much more dependable than princes."

"Do you know how to fight with a sword?"

"Gods, no!" she answered with a rueful laugh. The image of her battling with a sword was a comical one at best. "But I know how to wield a dagger well enough. The size of your weapon does not matter as much as your ability to handle it."

At her words Arya gave a shrewd smile as if she was mulling over a serious thought. After a moment she ran out of the room without any explanation. Amarah was confused but stayed to see what her cousin had in mind. Returning a few moments later, Arya carried a small, rolled-up bundle in her hand. Now Amarah's curiosity was peaked.

"What's this?"

"I call it Needle" Arya answered before unrolling the small bundle on the table. Once her treasure was uncovered, she lifted the small, narrow sword with great care. "Jon gave it to me before he left for the wall."

Amarah slowly ran her hand down the small, round blade with an interested gaze. "A special gift. This is why Uncle Ned procured the dancing lessons for you I see."

"Yes. Master Syrio won't let me practice with the real thing, but I'll learn soon enough" she replied.

"I'm sure you will" Amarah told her. "You'd best put that away now. It's a fine piece of workmanship. You wouldn't want someone to steal it."

Nodding in agreement Arya replaced the small weapon in its bundle. Once she had finished this task she looked back up at Amarah with a worried expression.

"You won't let them hurt father. Will you?" Amarah's heart constricted painfully at her cousin's trusting words. How could she promise to protect her uncle when he would not listen? She could not force Ned to choose wisdom over honor. Not sure how to answer she simply enfolded Arya in a tight hug.

"Your father must protect himself I'm afraid" she whispered in her ear. "But I will do my best to watch out for _all _of you." She pulled back to look Arya in the eye. Gazing at her with a stern expression she finished speaking. "Sansa as well. You may not always like your sister Arya but you must _always_ love her."

"I know." Arya nodded her head in understanding.

"Good" Amarah replied. "I'll leave you to your practice now. I have other things to see to. Run and put that weapon away before someone else finds it."

Reaching for the bundled sword, Arya quickly ran to do her cousin's bidding. As she watched Arya scamper off, Amarah hoped her little cousin would have no need to use that gift any time soon. However, she had the ominous feeling that it was a wish made in vain.

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_Please, please review! I want to see how many I can get before I post another chapter. Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for the nice reviews cause they make me want to write even faster so y'all get to see what happens next! A sad entry here but it was necessary. A bit of a longer chapter as well as the next one is the shortest so far._

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Amarah sat in her room reading some of sort of history book on the kings of Westeros. She had become bored late in the afternoon after all of her duties were fulfilled for the day so she decided that instead of sewing or gossiping with her handmaidens she would pursue a more scholarly endeavor. However, as her eyelids drooped lower while reading the less-than-fascinating tale she was beginning to regret that decision. Just as she was about to give up reading the book entirely her concentration was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she called loudly enough for whoever it was to hear.

She did not expect her Uncle Renly to be the unexpected visitor. His handsome head poked through the door looking for her. He looked terribly dirty and bedraggled, not his usual appearance at all. When his eyes met hers, her blood ran cold. Something here was terribly wrong.

"What is it?" she asked, the book fallen to the floor forgotten.

"We were out hunting. It was a wild boar. There was nothing…" he couldn't continue on, just stared at her with a helpless, lost expression. The King had gone out on a hunting party the previous day as it was his habit to disappear from the castle whenever something had occurred to upset him. This latest trip was the result of Jaime's attack on the Stark men and Ned's subsequent injury.

Instantly realizing what had happened, Amarah started towards the door past Renly without needing any further explanation. She ran to her father's chambers as it the fires of the seven hells nipped at her heels urging her on. Renly was somewhere behind her but she paid him no mind. It suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs and she was suffocating under some tremendous invisible force. _This could not be happening_ she told herself over and over, hoping that if she said it to herself enough times that would make it true.

She stopped in front of her father's chambers with an abrupt halt. Forcing her breathing to a slower pace, she strove for some appearance of normalcy before she entered. Going into hysterics would hardly be of any help to her or her father now. Slowly she pushed open the large, wooden door fearing what sight would meet her on the other side.

It appeared Uncle Ned had beaten her to the King's bedside as he was already sitting next to her dying father. Approaching the bed slowly, she made not a sound. Her mind was running in a thousand different directions. Death was simple to deal with when it was expected, but she never could have predicted this. Just a few days ago she had been standing in this very room with him while they argued back and forth. He had been his usual grumpy self and she had taken the fact for granted that he would remain that way until she was ready to let him go.

"There you are" he groaned. "What took you so long, girl?"

She didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. Reaching his side, Amarah took the chair that Ned had vacated for her. Reaching to take her father's hand, she found herself at a complete loss for words. A strange position to find herself in, but there it was. Amarah Baratheon did not know what to say to her own dying father. It would have been humorous were it not so tragic.

"What?" he asked her. "Nothin' to say? No reprimands that I shouldn't have been drinkin' on the hunt in the first place?"

She gave him a tight smile and squeezed his hand. "You shouldn't have been drinking on the hunt in the first place."

He gave an amused "humph" at that. "You were always so clever, my girl. Well, you'll have to stay clever on your own I'm afraid. I won't be around to keep you sharp anymore."

"What happened?" she asked ignoring his half-hearted attempt at humor.

"A wild boar stuck me clean through" he said with a dissatisfied frown. "Gods! Years of survivin' wars and a rebellion, and I'm killed by a pig. The seven must have a cruel sense of humor."

"Father" she spoke seriously. "Do you wish to talk with me about the cruelty of the gods on your deathbed?"

"No, my girl." He was silent for a moment after that while he gathered his thoughts. After a few moments she saw a single tear form in the corner of his eye but she quickly wiped it away before it could fall. She didn't want to see him cry for her because she did not deserve his tears. She felt as if she should be sobbing uncontrollably or begging him to hold on, to live. But she couldn't summon any of those feelings. All she could feel was a sort of numbness that began in her fingers and worked its way to her heart. She had never felt more broken.

"I'm sorry, my girl" his voice finally broke the silence. "I should have been a better father for you, but I was selfish. I chose to leave you to be raised by others when I should have taken the responsibility myself. I was afraid and chose the easy way out but you paid the price for my cowardice. You may not love me, daughter, but I do love you truly. Ever since the day the maester placed your small, wrigglin' body in my arms, I loved you. Not because of who your mother was but because you were a piece of both of us. My girl."

"Father" Amarah shushed him before he could say anything else. "You don't need to say these things to me. I understand." And she truly did. She supposed her inability to express her feelings was a trait she and her father had in common. However, she would try to tell him what he needed to hear before he passed on. He deserved that much from her.

"I was angry at you" she confessed. "But I don't hate you. I was only angry because I _did_ love you and I felt betrayed. I confess I did not always like you but I have always loved you" she finished repeating her earlier words to Arya. Little did she know at the time the advice would prove more helpful to her instead.

The King nodded his head in acceptance. "You're strong" he finally said after he realized she would say nothing else. "You will need to stay strong after I'm gone. It won't be easy for you. Don't think I don't know Cersei and Joffrey have no fondness for you. That's probably my fault as well, but it's done now. You'll have to be stronger than ever for me, my girl. Don't let those blonde haired shits bully you or break you. Stay my strong girl."

"That I can promise you" she replied without any hesitation. Yes, she would stay strong. For her father and for herself.

"Say our words" he said giving her hand a hard squeeze. "I want to hear you say them."

She hesitated an instant before understanding his request. "Ours is the fury."

"Again" he commanded more loudly.

"Ours is the fury" she repeated matching his loud, confidant voice.

He gave her a proud, satisfied look. "Don't you ever forget that."

Standing up to press one, final kiss to his brow she gave him a solemn promise. "I will never forget."

"I don't want you standin' over me while I waste away." He weakly brushed her off. "Best to say our final goodbyes now."

She moved to take his hands once again in hers and gave a brave smile. "Goodbye, Father." There was no trace of mockery or humor in her voice now. She knew these would be the last words she would ever speak to him.

"Goodbye, my girl." She did not stop the tear that fell from his eyes this time. She let him cry for them both. "My Amarah"

At these words he drifted off into sleep, and she somehow knew he would never wake up again. As she gazed at his sleeping face, she felt the overwhelming numbness slowly leak from her bones leaving an intense feeling of loss behind. Looking towards her Uncle who had witnessed the whole scene, she noticed a glimmer of moisture in his eyes that he was quick to wipe away. Handing him back his cane, she offered to walk with him to the door.

As soon as they had exited her father's chambers, she saw Renly rapidly approach Ned. Giving Amarah a hesitant gaze, Renly quickly requested if he could have a moment to speak with Ned alone. Already knowing his purpose, Amarah did not hesitate in granting his request. Before she was about to walk away, Ned lightly touched her elbow. She turned back to look at him with a questioning gaze.

"Go to my chambers" he told her in a low voice. "I need to speak with you there at once."

She nodded her head in assent, wondering what he wished to speak with her about. As she headed towards his apartments her brain tried to rapidly assimilate all that had just happened. Her father was dying and he would most likely be dead before morning on the next day. That did not give her much time to orchestrate a plan. She wondered how heartless she could be, plotting and scheming as her father lay on his deathbed, but she had made him a promise, a promise to stay strong, and she would do just that.

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Amarah had been waiting in Ned's inner sanctum for a short while before she finally heard his return. She was still busy thinking of a plan of action when he walked through the door but nothing seemed to come to mind.

"What was it you wished to discuss with me?" Amarah asked half-distractedly once he had closed the door.

"Your right to the throne."

Her wandering gaze snapped to attention at his answer. "What do you mean?"

"Joffrey Baratheon is not the heir to the throne. You are Robert's only legitimate child. All three of the queen's children are the products of incest between herself and her brother Jaime Lannister."

"How did you find out?" she asked in surprise.

"All of Robert's children have black hair. You and those bastards John Arryn and I both visted are all black of hair, but the queen's children have blonde hair. Robert is not their father. The queen admitted it herself"

Amarah felt her blood run cold. "You told her you knew?" She could barely contain her horror.

"Yes" Ned replied. "I wanted to warn her to leave the city before I told Robert what I had discovered. The children shouldn't have to suffer for the sins of their parents."

"I told you to let it be! How could you be so foolish?" Amarah nearly shouted at him, still reeling from the shock that he had told Cersei he knew her greatest secret. Now there would be no stopping her.

"What are you talking about?" asked her uncle clearly confused.

"You should not have said anything to her." Amarah had risen from her chair and now paced the room in a state of near panic. "You should have kept it to yourself or gone straight to the King. By warning her you have cost my father his life. Do you think it a mere coincidence that he will die so shortly after your discovery about the Lannisters? She will ensure that Joffrey takes the throne now no matter what."

"I did what I thought was right" he defended his actions.

"Well it wasn't" she threw back in anger. She continued to pace about trying to think of the best plan of action in light of her uncle's egregious error.

"You already knew" her uncle finally comprehended. Her lack of surprise must have escaped his notice at first, but now she saw the understanding finally dawn in his eyes. "You knew all this time and you said nothing."

Oh yes, she knew. She had discovered the truth almost seven years ago when she had finally become old enough to understand the ways between a man and woman. And it had been a most rude awakening.

One night she had been wandering the halls because she couldn't sleep when she heard someone coming. Still being a bit shy of her surroundings and the people in them, she had quickly moved into a nearby shaded alcove to avoid being discovered. As she watched from the shadows, she saw Jaime Lannister walk by with a careless stride. Amarah had been struck by his golden beauty as she watched him unobserved. She remembered thinking when she first came to the capital that he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but she was too shy to speak to the golden god. It was an immense pleasure to be able to view him so closely and unnoticed so that she could gaze to her heart's content.

However, as she continued to watch, he quietly approached a door on the other side of the passageway and knocked very softly. After a few moments the queen came out in the passageway to join him, much to Amarah's surprise. Cersei quickly looked up and down the hall to make sure they were unobserved and Amarah involuntarily shrank back further into the shadows. Once they were both convinced they were not being watched, the queen immediately pulled her brother into her arms and they kissed almost violently as Jaime roughly pulled up her skirts. Amarah did not see any more than that as both fell through the door shortly after and closed it with a loud thud.

In a state of shock over what she had just seen, Amarah picked up the hem of her night dress and ran as quickly as possible back to her chambers before she could risk seeing any other unpleasant sights. Once she had returned to her chambers she promptly cast up her accounts into the chamber pot and continued retching until nothing else came but dry heaves. Slumping down on the cold, hard stone she tried to block the image she had just witnessed but she could not erase it from her memory.

She never told anyone what she had witnessed between the Kingslayer and his sister that night, but over the years she had been able to put the clues together to discover that her three royal siblings were in fact no relation to her at all. She had pondered bringing the information forward to her father or even the high septon but there had been a multitude of reasons why she chose not to.

Fear of the Lannisters, Tommen and Myrcella, a lack of real evidence, but mostly she had no desire to have that damn throne for herself. She didn't want power. No, all Amarah Baratheon had ever wanted was peace. So she was content to live in silence, even if that meant Joffrey would sit on the throne instead of her. She had hoped that by the time her father passed the crown she would be married with a brood of children running about in a keep far from King's Landing, far from the Lannisters reach. But her father's unfortunate accident had dashed all of those hopes.

She proceeded to pour out this entire tale to her uncle as he stood gazing at her in shock. She left out no detail and once she had finished he sat down behind his desk to contemplate all she had said. The room was silent as she waited to hear what he would have to say.

"Joffrey cannot sit on the throne" he finally answered. "Even if you do not want it, the throne must go to Robert's true family. It should go to Stannis."

Appalled by her uncle's choice of successor, Amarah could not help but argue. "Stannis Baratheon would make a terrible king. No one loves him or even likes him. If you want a successor to swing prejudice away from the Lannisters it must be one people will support."

"There is no other choice" he reasoned.

"Yes there is" she countered. "You could take the throne. In fact, you could have had it years ago after the rebellion. Take what is yours, uncle. You have thousands that are loyal to you and they would fight to the death to see you take the iron throne."

Ned shook his head in denial at her request. "I'm not a king Amarah. I don't want the throne any more than you do."

"You must do it" she pressed on. "Make plans tonight to leave the city and gather your forces in the North. Then we will be prepared to defeat Cersei Lannister. Take the throne for yourself, Uncle."

"I'm afraid I cannot" he stubbornly refused. "I am still Hand and I must see to my duty which is to serve the King. The rightful King. You do not have to challenge Joffrey's power if you do not wish it but Stannis has the next claim to the throne. I will send out a raven as soon as possible to tell him what I have discovered."

"You cannot stay in the city" she persisted. "Cersei has the power here. You will be able to do nothing unless you leave tonight to return to the North to gather your men. Support Stannis if you wish but you must leave now."

Ned shook his head in denial of her assertion that he leave. "I have already spoken to Baelish and the city guard is under my command. Also, I had Robert sign a decree stating that the crown will pass to his trueborn heir. Not Joffrey. He will not sit on the throne."

"You cannot trust Littlefinger" she tried once again to reason with him. "You must listen to me, Uncle! Do you think a piece of paper will mean anything to Cersei? She will place Joffrey on that throne regardless of whatever you say and she will denounce you for a liar. Just as she did when Jaime attacked your men and she placed the blame on you. The Lannisters have no honor like you. You cannot win this way."

"I won't play their games, Amarah. I will do this the only way I know how. You either support me or you do not."

Amarah struggled to produce some other argument to sway him, but she could think of nothing else to say. She was so tired. Tired of trying to reason with him and tired of trying to make him see things her way. Nothing she could say would change his mind. It gave her a heavy heart but she could not stand with him on this. She must act on her own.

With a sad shake of her head she gave him her answer. "I do not."

"Very well" he answered with a disappointed look that cut her deeply. "You must do what you think is best."

"Please be careful" she pleaded with him. "I cannot stay in this city for my own safety. Surely you must understand that."

"I do" he replied with a softer gaze than before.

"I can take Arya and Sansa with me if you would like" she offered.

He denied her this request as well. "I would rather they stay with my men where they will be closely guarded. They will be safer in the city with me."

Too weary to argue with him any more she moved to say goodbye. Enfolding him in a tight hug which he equally returned, she embraced him as if they were being parted forever. She knew even Cersei Lannister would not be so foolish as to kill a powerful lord like Eddard Stark but she feared for him and her cousins all the same.

"Goodbye" she whispered quietly before leaving without looking back. He said nothing but the loud click of the door latch was more final than any words he could have uttered. Pausing for a brief moment, she took in a deep breath to restore her lungs with much-needed air. Then she walked away. She knew what needed to be done.

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_Please review! This was a personal favorite of mine so far so I'd appreciate hearing your thoughts. I've always wanted some character to try to talk some sense into honorable Ned so Amarah got to fulfill that role. Even if unfortunately he is too stubborn to listen:( All comments are appreciated!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** _Thank you again for all reviews! I can never get enough of them. This one is a shorter chapter. As always, feel free to let me know what you think. Read on!_

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It was late into the night. The evening air was silent save for the soft patter of footfalls as a lone figure moved quickly and quietly through the corridor. She had waited all day for this moment and she did not intend to waste any time. Quietly approaching her destination she checked her surroundings to make sure she was free from prying eyes.

Satisfied that she was indeed alone, Amarah gave a swift knock on Renly Baratheon's chamber door before proceeding inside without an invitation. As she walked in she saw a scramble on the bed as Renly suddenly rose without a stitch of clothing on seemingly oblivious to his state of undress. After Amarah quickly tossed a nearby blanket towards her naked uncle, he hastily covered up out of embarrassment.

"You can come out, Loras Tyrell" she told the person still hiding underneath the covers of the bed. "This concerns you as well."

With an obvious show of reluctance, Loras uncovered his head of blonde curls before reclining on the massive head board, all the while keeping his nakedness covered from the waist down. The look he gave her was not a terribly pleasant one.

"Amarah, what are you doing here?" Renly finally asked after overcoming the shock of her interruption.

"I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Renly seated himself on the side of the large bed and waited for her to continue. Loras's only reaction was to give her an irritated scowl.

"You want to be king do you not?" She waited for Renly to give an almost imperceptible nod of his head before continuing.

"Let us imagine I am the legitimate heir to the throne but would support your claim to it if you help me to leave this city before morning. What would you say?"

"But you're not the heir" Loras pointed out impatiently.

Giving him an icy glare to silence any further comments, Amarah returned her attention to Renly.

"I don't understand how you can inherit the throne" he said with a confused look.

"Surely you don't think my father could have spawned something as ridiculous as Joffrey" she answered, annoyed with his failure to see what she had discovered so long ago.

Renly still seemed at a bit of a loss, but Loras Tyrell's annoyed scowl suddenly disappeared as he caught onto her meaning. Wrapping the sheets securely around his waist, he stood and walked to where she observed them from the middle of the room. The closer he came, she could see the understanding dawn in his eyes.

Bending down to observe her face more closely, he seemed to be looking for any sign of trickery in her forthright gaze. Seemingly satisfied he pulled back slightly to question her further.

"If Robert is not his father, then who is?"

"Who do you think?" she questioned him in return. "Why is it that he appears so much more the Lannister than Baratheon?"

Renly mercifully seemed to have finally caught on to what she was implying. "Do you mean to say he's Jaime Lannister's bastard?"

"That is exactly what I mean" she replied without hesitation. "Him, Myrcella, _and_ Tommen. I am Robert's only legitimate child thereby making me the true heir." Renly then came to join them in the center of the room.

"I have always wondered at the relationship between him and Cersei?" he murmured to himself. "How is it that you came to discover it?"

Amarah shook her head in denial with an inward grimace at the thought. "I would rather not relive that particular moment if it is all the same to you."

"An upset to your delicate sensibilities?" Loras mocked her.

Giving him a condescending smile, she replied. "No more than what I have just witnessed, Knight of Flowers." His title was meant to be one of honor but her jeering tone made a mockery of it. She had never liked Loras Tyrell as she considered him a smug, conniving ass, and no amount of bargaining would induce her to pretend to enjoy his company.

"Can we return to the topic at hand?" Renly interrupted their glaring match. "Your support would help if we put about the tale of Joffrey's birth, but how am I to raise the army to take control from the Lannisters?"

Amarah turned to Loras once again with a falsely sweet smile. "Surely your Knight of Flowers is useful for something other than just fucking."

Loras was less than pleased by her choice or wording but he could not deny her logic. "My father could be convinced to support you. If Highgarden enforces your claim to the throne, we can give you an army of thousands. More than enough to be a match for Lannister forces."

"And how can we convince him to support me rather than the Lannisters?" Renly was still not entirely convinced.

Amarah did not hesitate to offer the obvious solution. "Surely the Tyrell's have a daughter of marriageable age."

"Is that entirely necessary?" He looked rather petrified by the thought of marrying a Tyrell daughter.

"She's right" Loras seemed reluctant to agree. "My father must understand that our family will benefit in some way by your taking the throne if we expect his support."

"If you want power, Uncle, you must be willing to make sacrifices" Amarah gave him the hard truth. She sympathized with his plight as she was the victim of unfulfilled romance herself but the quest for power was never an easy one. This alliance she proposed was not her first choice. In fact, she doubted whether Renly had the true leadership necessary to rule the kingdoms, but she needed an escape plan and this was the only one available to her. If she could convince Renly of the wisdom of her plan, she would be free of King's Landing before the sun rose.

Renly took a brief moment to mull over what she and Loras had proposed before giving his answer. Finally, he turned to her and spoke. "Very well. I agree. Do you give your word that I have your _absolute_ support?"

"You have my word" she replied not missing his emphasis of the word "absolute." There would be no running to Winterfell and Robb once she was clear of the city. A bargain had been struck and she was a woman of her word. Of course, this bargain in no way implied she could have no contact with the Starks. They were family after all. She would just make certain to keep that part of the plan to herself for the present.

"I would suggest you both put on some clothes so that we can make plans to leave as soon as possible." She regarded their similar states of undress with faint amusement. Blushing slightly at her comment, Renly did not hesitate to move behind a screen to put on some clothing, but Loras stayed where he was assessing her with a hard stare.

"Why are you willing to give up your claim to the throne simply for a means of escape?" he asked.

"You may not understand this, Loras Tyrell, but not everyone in the seven kingdoms desires power." He did not look as if he believed her but she did not much care if he did or not. "Simply see that you are ready to go before morning. I'd hate to be seen traveling about with a naked knight."

He followed Renly then to dress himself but not without giving her one last annoyed frown. While they busied themselves dressing, she exited the chamber to afford them a few moments in private. Once she was alone again in the quite passageway, she leaned against the cool, stone wall to give in to the sigh of relief she had hidden earlier. As she watched the torch flames play intricate shadows among the brown stone walls, she found herself lost in the mesmerizing display.

Gazing into the shadows, she imagined the faces of her family that she was abandoning to escape the capital. She saw Sansa's face full of wonder and hope, Arya's shrewd but playful eyes, and lastly her Uncle Ned's noble and proud bearing. She felt a tremendous amount of guilt leaving them here but there was nothing else she could have done. If she stayed, she had no doubt that Cersei and Joffrey would see to her death by whatever means necessary. Dying at the hands of Cersei Lannister would hardly leave her in a position to help those she loved, but at least if she escaped she could be of some use to them. She had told Renly that the desire for power sometimes required sacrifice. Well sometimes survival required a great sacrifice as well, and she had made it. There was no going back now.

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_**A/N** to Celes Warren: I really tried to work Littlefinger into this chapter but unfortunately it didn't work with the flow of things. However, I definitely plan to work in a scene with those two later on. It will be fun to see how she matches up against an old trickster like him:)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **_I've always loved House Baratheon's words the best so those play a significant part near the end of of this installment. Enjoy:)_

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Amarah made certain that her serving girl had left the room before she took out the missive she had received from Robb earlier that day. Since she had escaped King's Landing several weeks ago she had begun a secret correspondence with her cousin to keep him informed of Renly's activities, and in return he kept her apprised of his actions against the Lannisters. He had already requested that she leave Highgarden to return to Winterfell for safety, but she had denied him the request. She had given her word to Renly and she would not go back on it. She appreciated Robb's concerns, but they were not necessary. Also, after hearing news of Robb's betrothal to one of Walder Frey's daughters, she had no great desire to see him face-to-face. A correspondence with him was much less painful than watching him day after day, spending time in his presence only to see him marry another woman. No, it was better this way for them both.

For his part, Renly had proved a most faithful ally since their departure from King's Landing. When they had first arrived at Highgarden, Loras's father Mace Tyrell had not been in favor of keeping Amarah within their walls as he did not trust her to uphold her end of the bargain to support Renly's claim. However, Renly had convinced the man of her loyalty to their cause by stating that he would wager his life on her honesty, much to Amarah's surprise. Renly had always been kind to her since she had come to King's Landing those nine years before, but they had never shared a close relationship. When she had questioned him about his support, he seemed surprised that she would even ask. She remembered his words even now.

_You are my family_ he had answered. _Those who question your honor question mine as well._ At his words she had felt a slight prick of conscience over her secret letters to Robb, but not enough to confess. After all, she was still loyal to her uncle as she had promised. In fact, she planned to write Robb in her next letter to propose an alliance with Renly. She knew Robb had no desire to sit on the Iron Throne any more than she did. He only waged war against the Lannisters in response to Ned's unfair arrest in King's Landing. If she could convince Renly to form an alliance with the Starks, they would be much better equipped to defeat the Lannister forces.

Mulling these thoughts over in her head she opened the letter to see what Robb had to say. His notes had been one bright spot in a rather dreary existence for Amarah since she had left Ned and her cousins to the mercy of Joffrey and his mother. She reasoned with herself that she had no other choice than to leave, but she was burdened with a tremendous amount of guilt all the same. It eased her mind considerably that Robb did not hold her accountable for Ned's imprisonment, but she could not absolve her self entirely of the blame. Pushing those feelings to the back of her mind, she began to read Robb's short note:

_My dearest Amarah,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and well. Our forces have met the Lannister's in the Battle of Whispering Woods where we have won our first victory. During the battle we were fortunate enough to capture Kingslayer himself, Jaime Lannister. We will try to use his capture as leverage in order to release my father and sisters from Joffrey's clutches in King's Landing. Again I beg you do not blame yourself for what has befallen them. Though you do not speak of the guilt, I know you, cousin. I have prayed to the Seven for their safe return and yours as well. Until I hear from you again._

_Robb_

After she finished reading, Amarah quickly burnt the piece of paper and watched the flames slowly curl around the frayed edges. She watched it burn as she thought over all Robb had said. It was shocking that he had managed to capture Jaime Lannister, but it boded well for their hopes of releasing Ned and the girls from King's Landing. For a bargaining chip in this war, they could not have asked for a better one.

At that moment the door of her chamber quickly burst open, jarring her from her thoughts of the caged lion. The intruder was the serving girl who had left just minutes before, but now her face was red with exertion and she was panting heavily as if she had just run a great distance. When she was finally able to catch a breath, she told Amarah the purpose for her interruption.

"My Lady…" she gulped in another breath of air. "King Renly wishes to see you in the Great Hall."

Curious as to why he would request her presence so early in the day and with such urgency, Amarah rose without hesitation to answer the summons. Since Renly had taken up residence in Highgarden, he had taken to calling himself King Renly. Amarah was not certain whether he warranted the title as of yet, but she decided it was more palatable on him than Joffrey. She would never call that sadistic shit King.

Her rooms were on the lowest level of the keep, so it did not take much time to reach Renly's chosen meeting place. She entered the chilly room finding the whole of the Tyrell family also in attendance. If that was not odd enough, she noticed that they all regarded her with somewhat pitying glances. Margaery Tyrell, with whom she had formed the closest acquaintance, looked the most sympathetic of all. Baffled as to why they should all be looking at her in such a way, Amarah finally located her uncle in their midst.

"What is it?" she asked him with an uneasy feeling beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.

He didn't answer her right away, but first addressed all those that surrounded them. "Give us a few moments alone if you please." They obeyed the order without hesitation. Before she left the room however, Margaery came to give Amarah's hands a quick squeeze of comfort before departing with the rest of her family. Even more bewildered than before, Amarah turned back to Renly with a questioning gaze.

"There's been a raven from King's Landing" he began while staring into the cold, empty fireplace with his back facing her. Momentarily she was worried they might have received word or her correspondence with Robb, but she doubted that discovery would cause such strange behavior. So she waited for him to continue. Slowly, he turned back to face her with a strange look in his eye.

"Amarah, it's about Lord Stark." Her heart dropped to her stomach at his ominous words, but she said nothing. "I don't know how else to tell you this" he seemed to struggle for the right thing to say before finally finishing. "Joffrey had him executed this day past for treason and conspiring against the crown. He's dead."

"No" Amarah's mind instantly rebelled against the thought. "No that cannot be. Cersei is a mean bitch but she is no fool. She would never let Joffrey do something so stupid." She seemed to be trying to convince herself more of those words than Renly. With a sad shake of his head, Renly interrupted her denials.

"It all happened within a matter of minutes we were told. He was beheaded in the city square. Hundreds saw it happen. I'm sorry but there is no mistake."

Turning abruptly from him, she marched to the nearest window in order to take in lungfuls of fresh air to keep her standing upright. As her mind slowly accepted the horrifying reality of her uncle's tale, she felt as if all the air from her body had been sucked out and a large weight was pressing on her, trying to break her in two. Much the same feeling she had when learning of her father's death, but this was far worse. She had cared for her father, but Ned Stark was the man who raised her. The one who had taken into his home and treated her as his own child. Loved her as if she were his own daughter. He had been a true father to her when she needed it most and she loved him fiercely for that. And now he was gone. Never again would she see his kind, smiling eyes or feel his warm embrace. It was almost too much too bear.

"Amarah?" she heard Renly approach her cautiously.

She didn't turn to look at him. Refused to let him see her at her weakest. "Please leave me be" she whispered.

However, he ignored that request as he took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. She was taken aback by the fierce look in his eyes. "Don't let this break your spirit" he urged her. "I'm sorry for what the Lannisters have taken from you, but we will make them pay. I swear it to you."

Looking into his violent gaze, she realized that he truly meant what he said. Finding strength in his anger she began to feel the weight of sadness lift, replaced by a burning sense of rage. Rage was much easier for her troubled soul to bear than overwhelming grief. The Lannisters would pay for this, if she had to mount Joffrey and Cersei's heads on a spike herself. They _would _pay.

"Ours is the fury" she said remembering her father's command.

Renly nodded with approval and repeated the words more loudly. "Ours is the fury." Pulling her swiftly to his broad, hard chest, he repeated the words in her ear over and over again as if afraid she would forget. But as she tightly closed her eyes to shut out the image of her beloved uncle's death, she knew she would never forget. _Mine is the fury. _It was a promise she intended to keep._  
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	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **_Thank you for the nice reviews! Another chapter for you here. I will mostly follow the book storyline from here on out so don't be confused if events aren't exactly the same as they were in season 2. However, a couple more scenes from the show will still make appearances including this one cause it was a pretty kick ass introduction to one of my favorite characters. Enjoy!_

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Amarah made a valiant effort not to give into the overwhelming urge to begin tapping her delicate foot in an irritated rhythm. They had been at this for weeks now. It was always the same. Renly would move through the southlands using his charm and charisma to convince the different lords to help him in his effort to take the Iron Throne and they would add thousands to his already existing army. After gaining the extra forces, Renly would host a tournament for his own amusement and to assess the battle skills of his men.

This was where they sat now as Amarah watched two soldiers struggle in the midst of the muddy field trying to tear one another apart. While Robb was courageously winning victories over the much more experienced Lannister forces, Renly sat here playing at war. This was the thought that forced Amarah to resist the urge to give in to some gesture that indicated her extreme impatience. Every day Renly stalled the attack on the capital they were losing precious time. She had brought up the discussion with him once about the ill-advised delay, but he told her that there was no need to worry. He knew exactly what he was doing. She was not entirely convinced of that, but she knew it would be pointless to argue with him. So she sat and watched, day after day.

She had written to Robb, just as she had intended, to propose an alliance between himself and Renly. Since she had already suspected that Robb possessed no intention of taking the Iron Throne, she was unsurprised when he agreed to her plan. Combining the Stark forces with Renly's army would significantly increase their chances of defeating the Lannisters. He had sent a raven to her days ago promising to send an envoy to propose the alliance with Renly. That is what she waited for now. Trying to turn her mind to other things so as not to prolong the agony of waiting, she once again focused her gaze on the exchange of blows that ensued before her.

Loras Tyrell was battling on foot against some knight that was unknown to Amarah. He looked unfamiliar but still formidable. Despite his height which could sometimes prove a disadvantage to less experienced knights, he dominated the match with Loras forcing the smaller man to lose his footing in the slippery sand. Once Loras had fallen, he was unable to rise again with the giant knight leaping on his chest and holding a menacing looking dagger to his throat. With a look of supreme annoyance, the young Tyrell finally yielded to the unnamed knight. Looking past the pair with an amused smile at Loras's defeat, Amarah had to contain the sudden urge to leap from her chair when her eyes met those of her Aunt Catelyn.

She would have noticed her arrival earlier had her concentration had not been on other matters. But now that she saw her here, she realized that Robb had sent his mother as the envoy to convince Renly to join forces with him. Giving an almost imperceptible nod, she let her aunt know that she already knew her purpose for being there. Catelyn accepted her niece's recognition and waited for Renly to notice her presence as well. Currently, however, he was occupied with the knight who had bested his lover, much to the latter's apparent humiliation. Amarah might have felt some sympathy for the young knight if hadn't have been such an arrogant ass during the entirety of their acquaintance. As it was, she would not deny that it was a supreme pleasure watching him get knocked down a peg or two.

Giving a generous clap for the knight's victory, Renly called him over. "Well fought! Approach."

Once the long-legged knight had arrived at the wooden platform where they sat, Renly commanded him to remove his helmet. Even Amarah, who was more adept than anyone in Westeros at hiding their emotions, could not stifle a surprised gasp at the knight's identity. How it had escaped her notice before was beyond her comprehension but there stood a woman. A very tall, strong, even ugly woman but a woman nonetheless. Well, this was certainly proving to be a more interesting day than she had originally thought.

"Who are you?" she could not stop the question before it left her mouth.

The knight turned to acknowledge her for a brief moment before giving an answer. "Brienne of Tarth, my lady."

"Brienne comes to us from the Sapphire Islands" Renly informed Amarah who sat to his right-hand side on the dais before returning his attention to the lady knight. "You are everything your father promised and more, my lady. I have seen Ser Loras bested once or twice before but never quite in that fashion."

"Now, now, my love" interrupted Margaery from Renly's other side. "My brother fought valiantly for you."

Amarah gave an inward smile at Margary's loyal defense of Loras. She had spent a great deal of time in the company of her uncle's bride as they were the only ladies of high rank present in the camp, and Amarah found she somewhat liked the aspiring queen-to-be. She was manipulative of course, but she was honest about it. After all, Amarah could not deny that she was manipulative herself even if it was for a less selfish purpose than Margaery. So she would not hold that against the girl. And while she may have possessed Cersei's thirst for power, Margaery seemed to lack the lion queen's meanness of spirit. Amarah would never presume to call her a friend, but they had some sort of tenuous relationship. One that could be snapped in an instant by the turning tide, but for now it held together.

Attempting to turn her concentration once again to the mysterious knight before her, Amarah heard Renly offer the woman anything she would ask of him. Amarah was curious what such a knight would ask from a presumed king, so she listened attentively for the lady's reply.

Brienne kneeled before him as she made her request. "Your grace, I ask the honor of a place in your king's guard." For the second time that day, Amarah could not keep the surprise from her face. It was not an answer she had expected and by the reactions of those around her, neither did they. "I will be one of your seven" the lady continued unperturbed. "Pledge my life to yours and keep you safe from all harm."

There were a few moments of silence as all turned to see what Renly's response would be to this outrageous request. Never had a woman served as a member of the king's guard. "Done!" Renly finally replied almost happily. "Rise Brienne of the king's guard!"

Amarah and Margaery joined in with light applause as the newly honored knight rose to her feet. They gave each other skeptical gazes at Renly's decision but both were wise enough to hold their tongues. It wasn't that Amarah did not think Brienne possessed the skill necessary to serve her uncle, she just didn't see why the woman would want such a position in the first place. However, she planned to find that answer to that riddle as soon as possible. Pushing those thoughts from her head, she drew Renly's attention to the more important matter at hand.

"Uncle, my Aunt Catelyn is here to request an audience with you." Renly looked in the direction Amarah had gestured and good naturedly waved the waiting noblewoman forward.

"Lady Catelyn" he greeted her warmly. "You are most welcome here. May I present my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell. And of course you are already well acquainted with my niece Lady Amarah of the House Baratheon."

Amarah let Margaery give the official greeting but she gave her aunt a warm smile that indicated her pleasure at her appearance. Catelyn nodded in greeting before looking to Margaery. "You are very welcome here, Lady Stark" she greeted her. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Margaery did not sound insincere precisely but the casual reminder of her husband's death caused Catelyn's face to tighten as if she was trying to hold some sort of unwanted emotion at bay before replying. "You are most kind." Amarah wanted to say something to comfort her aunt but now was not the time or place. She tried to convey a silent apology to her aunt and received a tired smile in return. It appeared that the last month had taken as much of a toll on her aunt as it had on her. They were both tired of bearing the burdens of the world.

Noticing Amarahs's disturbed expression, Renly gave her hand a comforting squeeze before standing to address her aunt. "I swear to you, I will see the Lannisters pay for your husband's murder. When I take King's Landing, I'll bring you Joffrey's head."

A loud cheer went up at his decree which Amarah declined to join. Her uncle's promise was great indeed but so far he had proved no closer to fulfilling it than weeks before when he had made the same offer. Catelyn seemed as unimpressed at his words as Amarah. "It will be enough to know that justice has been done, my lord."

"Your _grace_" Brienne automatically interjected into the conversation. "And you should kneel when you approach the king."

Irritated at her presumption Amarah leapt to defend her aunt. "It is not your place to correct the Lady of Winterfell" she replied with a tone frostier than the chilly air that surrounded them. Renly soothed Amarah's temper with a small pat on her arm.

"There's no need for that" he directed at Brienne more kindly than his niece. "Lady Stark is an honored guest."

"Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?" Loras questioned suddenly.

Catelyn turned to regard the young knight with the same condescending look that Amarah so often gave him. "I do not sit on my son's war council, and if I did, I would not share his strategies with you."

"If Lord Stark wants a pact with us, he should come himself" Loras continued. "Not hide behind his mother's skirts."

Just as Catelyn opened her mouth to give a scathing reply to that insult, Amarah grew tired of holding her tongue at his insolence. "My cousin is currently fighting an _actual_ war that requires his undivided attention" she shot back at Loras. "Unlike _you_ who stand on this field fighting your own knights instead of battling our real enemies."

Renly quickly stood to diffuse the mounting tension among those who surrounded him. "There is no need to speak like this" he told them with a pacifying smile. "We are all friends here. Come, Amarah" he offered her his arm. "Let us show your aunt some hospitality."

Taking the proffered arm, she rose to leave the uncomfortable chair she had been occupying for the better part of an hour. She gave Margaery a brief acknowledgement of farewell before letting Renly escort her to her waiting aunt. Once they had reached Catelyn's side, Amarah restrained the impulse to fling herself into her arms and simply grasped both her cold hands in greeting.

Catelyn returned her welcome with a genuine smile before both ladies turned to leave the field on either side of their host. Brienne seemed to think now was as good a time as any to begin her duties as she followed the small trio off the field with a watchful gaze. While they walked along, Amarah saw her aunt take in all that surrounded them.

"I have a hundred thousand men at my command" Renly informed the Lady Stark matter-of-factly. "All the might of the stormlands and the reach."

Catelyn gave an indulgent smile at his boast. 'And all of them young and bold like your Knight of Flowers. It's a game to you isn't it" she said reflecting the same thoughts Amarah had harbored for the past weeks regarding Renly's attitude. "I pity them."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it won't last. Because they are the knights of summer and winter is coming."

Renly regarded her words with a sardonic smile but said nothing else on the matter. He then turned to Amarah with a kind gaze before he kissed her hands in farewell.

"Why don't you escort your aunt to her tent" he suggested. "She will be tired after her journey. Take Brienne with you."

Amarah looked towards the towering lady knight to see how she would take to that command. She did not look terribly pleased but nor did she argue against the order. "Would you like me to return after?" Brienne asked her king.

He had already begun walking away but called back that she needn't bother. He preferred to pray _alone_. Amarah smirked at his use of the word "alone". She had a strong suspicion that he would not be alone at all but simply seeking to soothe a certain someone's pride who had been bested by that very lady.

After Renly's departure Amarah finally obeyed the impulse to hug her aunt. Catelyn seemed just as eager to return the gesture and they both stood there for a moment rejoicing in each other's company, heedless of those who looked on. A few moments later Amarah finally pulled back to see a sheen of moisture in her aunt's eyes.

"Oh, my dear" Catelyn whispered, framing Amarah's face in her hands. "When we heard the news from the capital, I feared for your life. I didn't know if we would ever see you again."

"There's no need for tears" Amarah assured her with a kind smile. "I am perfectly well as you see."

Nodding her head in agreement, Catelyn blinked away the tears before following Amarah's lead toward her tent. As they walked along she informed Amarah of all that had happened to Robb since she had received his last correspondence. After remaining in Riverrun for some time, the seat of his mother's house Tully, Robb had moved to invade the Lannister forces in the Westerlands. It appeared that he had left Jaime Lannister in the tower of Riverrun for safekeeping during his siege.

"What exactly are his plans for Kingslayer?" Amarah questioned.

Catelyn replied with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "I do not know his precise plans for him. Only that he plans to use him for some sort of bargaining leverage against the Lannisters."

"It seems rather dangerous to leave him at Riverrun without you or Robb in attendance" Amarah mused aloud. "I can promise you that Tyrion Lannister will take advantage of any opportunity to free his brother."

Since escaping King's Landing, Amarah had heard from Tyrion only once. He had sent a raven bearing a message for her before she departed Highgarden with Renly's forces. He must have sent it without any one else's knowledge because he informed her not to reply under any circumstances. Seeing as they were now on opposing sides of the war, Amarah understood the request. It would not do for Cersei to discover any kind of correspondence between the two of them.

The note had simply informed her that Tyrion was now the acting Hand at King's Landing and it also contained some very interesting information regarding his sister. She and Tyrion had always enjoyed a bit of gossip with one another so it had been expected for him to place some kind of information regarding such matters in the letter. It seemed that the whore queen had taken up with a new lover since her brother's departure from King's Landing, the half-wit Lancel. Amarah had been surprised at first to discover Cersei's choice of lover but she recalled hearing that Lancel much resembled Jaime Lannister from his youth. She supposed the queen must have a _great_ deal more love for her family than was healthy in a woman.

At the end of the message Tyrion had included a heartfelt apology for what had befallen Ned Stark. If it had come from anyone else, Amarah would have doubted the sincerity behind the words, but she knew that Tyrion meant what he said. If she could have responded she would have told him that he had no need to apologize to her. Ned's death had not been his fault and she sincerely doubted that it would have happened if Tyrion had been present in King's Landing at the time. She made sure, however, not to mention any of this information to her aunt. It wouldn't do to remind the grieving widow once again of what she had lost. So Amarah kept silent on the subject.

"I hope you don't return to discover he has escaped" Amarah continued with her warning regarding the Kingslayer's imprisonment.

"My father's men are loyal" Catelyn reasoned aloud. "I have every faith that they will succeed in keeping watch over him."

"I hope you are right" Amarah replied.

By this time they had reached Catelyn's quarters and Amarah demanded kindly that she go inside and get some rest. She gave her aunt a quick farewell before departing to walk to her own quarters. Looking behind her, she saw that Brienne still followed.

"You don't have to look after me" Amarah informed her. "I think I shall reach my destination well enough without any unneeded protection."

"If that is your wish, my lady" Brienne replied with a stiff bow before walking away.

As she watched the lady's retreat, Amarah suddenly regretted her less than kind words. Brienne had never wronged her in any way and she deserved more kindness than she had been given. Resolving to be less rude the next time she encountered the lady knight, Amarah began to walk once again towards her tent on the outskirts of camp. She had requested one farther away from the tournament field as she valued peace and quiet. Two things she would never have _any_ of if she resided near the constant melee of men attacking each other with lances and swords.

The sun was beginning to set by this point in the day casting long shadows through the camp. As Amarah walked by one of the tents cast in the darkest part of the shade she suddenly felt a hand reach through the darkness to capture her around the waist before yanking her back into the deserted tent. Just as she was about to scream at the unexpected attack she felt another hand clap across her mouth to stop any sound that would alert the soldiers. She only managed to get out a faint squeak before she was flung to the ground inside the empty tent and covered by a heavy, clammy body.

She flailed about trying to find some kind of purchase on the hard ground so she could dislodge her attacker, but he had locked her waist between two thighs that were hard as rocks while he continued to muffle her screams. His stench was so overwhelming that she almost blacked out from the force of it. However, she stubbornly held on to consciousness as he continued to hold her down. A piece of cloth that he had used to cover his face came loose during their scuffle revealing him to her terrified gaze. He was uglier that he was smelly which was no small feat.

He gave her a smile full of yellow teeth, and she had to hold back the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her at his lecherous gaze. With his free hand, he removed a small, dangerous looking knife from the belt at his waist. As he brought it to the base of her neck, she suddenly ceased her struggle to avoid getting her artery nicked in the process of freeing herself.

"When I was sent to kill the late king's little whore daughter I had no notion what a pretty thing you'd be" he whispered dangerously while his gaze greedily roamed her face. "They didn't pay me as much for this killing as I think I deserve" he continued. "I'll take my payment this way instead."

With those words he took the knife from her throat and used it to slice open the front of her green silk gown before clumsily grabbing at her exposed breasts. At these horrifying actions she resumed her struggle once again, not caring now if she got sliced open as well in the process. She would rather die than let this disgusting creature paw and rape her for his own amusement.

"Hold still, you little bitch" he exclaimed angrily before taking away the hand at her mouth to strike her across the face hard enough to make her to see patches of white lights. As soon as his hand left her mouth however, she took the opportunity to let out an earsplitting scream. She prayed to the seven someone was close enough to hear. Panicked, her attacker quickly clapped his hand back over her mouth and brought the knife to her throat once more.

"Now see what you've done?" he exclaimed angrily. "Seems I'll just have to kill you now before havin' my bit o' fun."

Amarah did not even want to consider what he meant by that disgusting reference. At least she would be dead before she was further violated. Closing her eyes tightly, she awaited the death dealing blow of his knife before his weight was unexpectedly removed. After a few moments, she cautiously opened her eyes once again to find the unexpected sight of Brienne fighting off her attacker. Unprepared to go up against one as intimidating as the lady knight, the disgusting worm was no match for her superior strength and skill. After only a few moments, Brienne knocked him to the ground before jamming her sword under his ribs. The blow was not enough to kill him instantly but just enough to leave him in an excruciating amount of pain as he wasted away.

Leaving the wretch to his agonized cries, Brienne came to help the injured princess. Amarah quickly reached to take the helping hand as Brienne assisted in placing her upright once again. It took a few moments before Amarah was able to regain her bearings, but as she looked down at her ruined dress which now gaped open almost to her waist, she was immediately overcome by an intense rage. The injured man still lay in a heap where Brienne left him and Amarah marched over to his side without hesitation.

The dagger he had threatened her with only moments before now lay beside him untouched by the blood pooling around his body. Picking up the abandoned dagger, she held it to his throat just before his screams ceased. He then coughed up a tremendous amount of blood covering the hand she held at his throat, but she was too incensed to care.

"Tell me who sent you" she demanded.

He gave a cruel sounding laugh which only served to eject more blood from his open mouth. "And what will you do if I don't?" he wheezed. "Kill me?"

"You'll die any way" she informed him. "Tell me who sent you here and I'll give you a quick death."

He seemed to mull over these words but she had no patience for him to make up his mind. She motioned Brienne over and stood to take the woman's sword. Once Brienne had handed it over, Amarah proceeded to place the sword back in his open wound and pushed with a tremendous amount of force, causing him to emit another deafening cry of pain.

"Tell me!" she commanded him once again.

After his screams faded away, he finally answered the question. "The queen sent me." He took a moment to cough up another round of blood. "She wants all Robert's children dead. But you most especially."

She did not doubt the truth of his words. They had received word several days ago about a mass killing in King's Landing of black haired babies and children. Now she realized why her father's bastards had been slaughtered so heartlessly. Because the queen wanted to eliminate any threat that might strengthen a true Baratheon's claim to the throne.

"Finish him" Amarah commanded Brienne before turning her back on the pitiful sight. As she heard the sickening sound of knife on flesh, Amarah remembered Cersei's words. _You will never be safe from me_. It appeared the queen had not forgotten her promise after all. Amarah would need to be more cautious than ever if she expected to win this game against the queen, but she _would_ defeat her. If it was a war Cersei wanted between them, then a war she would have.

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_This is probably the most fun I've had yet writing a chapter! It's always exiting to let Amarah be a bit of a badass and Brienne of course is always a badass. All reviews are appreciated:)_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note:** As always, thank you for the wonderful comments! I really do appreciate reading the nice things you guys have to say about my story. I was able to get some Littlefinger interaction into this one. Also, Jaime will reappear soon and once he does I plan to have some chapters from his POV:) We just have to wait a little bit longer. Enjoy!_

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"Cersei tried to have you killed?" Renly cried in astonishment after bursting into Amarah's tent unannounced. Obviously Brienne had found the time to inform him about the attack.

"Please, Uncle, do not shout. I beg of you" Amarah pleaded placing both hands to her throbbing temples. She had just awakened from a fitful night of sleep after her close brush with death the evening before. Instead of running immediately to Renly with the tale, she had asked Brienne to escort her to her tent where she had immediately laid down to rest. However, it seemed every time she closed her eyes she could feel Cersei Lannister watching her, waiting for another opportunity to strike. That image had not exactly been conducive to a long night of rest.

"Why did you not come to me immediately?" Renly continued, ignoring her request about the shouting.

Amarah stood to give him a disgruntled frown. "Because you were _occupied_" she made sure to stress the last word so as to leave him in no doubt of her meaning. "And the situation was resolved. Bothering you would have served no purpose."

"How would protecting you have been a bother?" he asked in shock. "You should have come to me immediately after it happened so that we could take steps to ensure that it never happens again."

"Well since the assassin was dead, the chances of him tying to kill me a second time seemed unlikely" she replied.

He looked as if he wanted to throttle her but held the urge in check. "Your life is not an inconvenience to me, Amarah. From now on I want a guard with you at all times."

She did not argue the point with him as she would feel a great deal more secure with someone to guard her at all times. Her pride would not cause her to act foolishly. Giving him a contrite expression, she moved forward to press a familial peck to his cheek.

"Thank you for worrying about me" she told him with all sincerity.

"You are my family" he reminded her. "I will always protect you."

She regarded him with a warm expression but said nothing else on the subject. "Did you come here simply to yell at me or was there some other purpose?"

"Stannis is here" he replied with a dark look. Amarah felt a surge of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach at that news. She did not fear her Uncle Stannis exactly, but he was a damned terrifying man if crossed. And she and Renly had both crossed him by not acknowledging his claim to the throne.

When she did not make any reply to his news, Renly continued. "He has requested that we ride out and meet him. If we decline the request he will lay siege to Storm's End." Storm's End was the seat of House Baratheon and Renly's home. The home that Stannis had always considered _his_ rightful birthright.

"We?" she asked with a wary expression.

"He specifically included you in that request" Renly informed her. "You didn't think he would take too kindly to your support of my claim to the throne did you?"

"I suppose not" she admitted with a resigned sigh. "Well, shall we?"

Following her suggestion, Renly led her from the tent to their waiting horses. Apparently her Aunt Catelyn had decided to join them in the excursion along with Brienne and Loras. Amarah had no great to desire to meet her uncle's wrath head on, but she supposed they were in no real danger. Stannis had a prickly demeanor but Amarah had never really considered him to be a dangerous threat. And as Renly's men far outnumbered Stannis's, she doubted their armies would be coming to blows that same hour.

As their small group neared the meeting place, Amarah saw Stannis already waiting with a small party of his own, including the mysterious red woman that Amarah had heard much about. There were many whispers among the men about the mysterious fire priestess who held such a strong hold over the eldest Baratheon. Seeing her in the flesh, Amarah had no doubt why she possessed such a hold on Stannis. She was beautiful to be sure, but more than that she seemed to exude an air of strange magic. Something most men with a desire for power would find irresistible, even cold Stannis Baratheon.

"Lady Stark, I'd not thought to find you in the stormlands" Stannis expressed in surprise at the sight of Catelyn.

"I had not thought to be here, Lord Stannis" was the only explanation she gave him.

"Can that truly be you?" Renly asked him in a state of some disbelief.

Stannis looked mildly annoyed at the ridiculous question. "Who else might it be?"

"When I saw your standard I couldn't be sure. Who's banner is that?" Renly asked in a mocking tone. Amarah did not think mockery was the best approach to dealing with Stannis Baratheon but she chose to remain silent.

"My own" Stannis answered with a stony expression.

"Suppose if we use the same one the battle would be terribly confusing" Renly continued to goad him. "Why is your stag on fire?"

At this question, the mysterious red figure took the opportunity to answer for her king. "The King has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the lord of light."

"Ah" Renly replied. "You must be this fire priestess we hear so much about." _As if he didn't know that before_ Amarah thought to herself. "Brother, now I understand why you found religion in your old age."

_Gods!_ Amarah fumed inwardly at his stupidity. Stannis Baratheon was not a man to be toyed with, even with a large army at your back. He was dangerous, and at the moment he did not look too pleased with his younger brother's antics.

"Watch yourself, Renly" he warned him.

Renly seemed oblivious to the danger he was courting with this cavalier attitude towards Stannis. "No, no, I'm relieved" he pressed on. "I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, and a bore, yes. But not a godly man."

"You should kneel before you brother" the red lady responded to Renly's insolent remarks. "He's the lord's chosen. Born amidst salt and smoke."

Renly regarded this claim with a cynical smile. "Born amidst salt and smoke. Is he a ham?" _Oh this will not end well_ Amarah thought as she saw the fury building in Stannis's gaze.

"That's twice I've warned you" Stannis said with an expression that lacked any amusement.

"Listen to yourselves" Catelyn interrupted to scold them. "If you were sons of mine, I would knock your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber together until you remembered that you are brothers."

"It is strange to find you beside my brother, Lady Stark" Stannis replied ignoring her motherly advice. "Your husband was a supporter of my claim. Lord Eddard's integrity cost him his head, and you sit beside this pretender and chastise me." After saying these words he then turned his attention to Amarah much to her dismay.

"And more surprising than that is my niece who also supports his claim to the throne when she knows it should be mine." She chafed a bit under his reproof.

"I thought it was _mine_" she replied in an equally cold voice.

"But you gave up that right, and now you support him. I am Robert's eldest brother. If his only legitimate child passes on the right of her inheritance the crown goes to me. You know this."

"I cannot support you" she replied to him honestly. "I made a promise to Renly that if he helped me escape King's Landing I would support his claim to the throne. Would you have me break my solemn vow?" Asking Stannis this question was a clever ploy on her behalf to appeal to his rigid sense of honor. By claiming her support was conditional only on a promise to follow Renly's wishes, she had placed all blame for her defection squarely on Renly's head. She would have felt some remorse over her manipulation of the facts if Renly had seemed fearful of his brother's wrath. But as he did not, she felt no compunction in placing the blame on him.

Her logic seemed to have worked because Stannis then turned his anger back on Renly. "He should never have asked it of you in the first place. The Iron Throne is mine by right. All those that deny that are my foes."

"All the realm denies it from Dorne to the wall" Renly replied unconcerned with Stannis's decree that they were all his enemies. "Old men deny it with their death rattle and unborn children deny it in their mother's wombs. No one wants you for their king. You never wanted any friends, brother. But a man without friends is a man without power."

Stannis's intimidating gaze changed not at all during Renly's unkind speech. "For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners, come to me before dawn, and I will grant you your old seat in the council. I'll even name you my heir…until a son is born to me. Otherwise I shall destroy you."

Amarah did not take the threat as lightly as Renly. Something about Stannis seemed so final, so sure. She feared for Renly's safety if he refused to listen. She looked at his face to see his reaction to his brother's ultimatum but it remained as cocky and self-sure as before.

"Look across those fields, brother" he boasted. "Can you see all those banners?"

"You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?" Stannis questioned him.

"No, the men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king."

"We shall see Renly" Stannis replied before riding back to his camp. "Come the dawn we shall see."

Once he had left, his red woman gave Renly one last parting thought. "Look to your sins, Lord Renly. The night is dark and full of terrors." Then she rode off as well.

Giving Amarah a sad smile, Renly dropped the smug expression he had worn for the past several minutes. To her surprise, Amarah saw true sadness in his gaze. "Would you believe, niece? I loved him once."

After these cheerless words Renly rode back to the camp with Amarah at his side. They rode along in silence for several minutes while Amarah pondered over their meeting with Stannis. She couldn't shake the ominous feeling of pending doom after hearing the red woman's last words. For some reason, she felt as if Renly did not give in to his brother's demands, he would lose despite his large army. Something about that woman was dangerous, and Amarah wanted nothing to do with her.

Voicing these concerns aloud to Renly, she wondered if he would consider striking some sort of bargain with Stannis to stay his hand. Laughing off her worries, Renly refused any suggestion of compromising with Stannis. He was the king, he told her, and there was nothing Stannis could do about it.

* * *

Amarah maneuvered her way through the crowd as she returned to her tent for some much needed rest. It was earlier than the usual time she chose to retire, but after the taxing day she was more than ready to close her eyes and enter into a dreamless sleep. Just as she passed the thickest part of the crowd she heard her name spoken by a familiar voice.

She looked to the one who had called to her with ill-concealed disdain. "Lord Baelish." She had been told of his presence in the camp but had avoided the misfortune of sharing his company until now.

"I must say you are looking more lovely than ever" he said obviously ignoring the large bruise which shadowed her jaw. She resisted the impulse to smack the sly smile off his face. "The capital seems so dull now without your spirit and beauty."

"Does it indeed?" she questioned. "I would have thought the charm of King's Landing disappeared after my uncle's unjust execution in the city square. Brutal beheadings have a way of doing that."

He tried to look apologetic at that. "It was a great tragedy that befell Eddard Stark. I assure you that I would have prevented it if at all possible. But surely you must know how determined King Joffrey is once his mind has been made up."

"Oh I'm certain none of the fault fell to you" she assured him even as her voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's the oddest thing though. Before I left the capital I was certain my uncle had mentioned that you assured him the city watch was under his command. How strange that it was under Cersei Lannister's control all the time."

"Sometimes words are misinterpreted, my lady" he defended himself. "Or sometimes people make promises they cannot possibly hope to fulfill despite the best of intentions. You of all people would understand I'm sure."

She regarded him with a suspicious gaze. "And how is that?"

"Well you did give your word to look after your family in the capital did you not?" he inquired with false innocence. "Yet no one holds you in any ill will for abandoning that promise."

Now she gave up all pretense of politeness. "Careful Lord Baelish. You think yourself so clever with your games and secrets, but those will not always protect you. Tell me? What is to keep me from ordering one of my uncle's men to chop that skull of yours in half this very moment? After all I doubt anyone would mourn the loss enough to avenge you. And don't make the mistake of thinking this an empty threat. I have no reason _or_ great desire to keep you alive."

His superior expression slipped just a bit under her threat to reveal a flash of fear before it was firmly back in place. In fact, it all happened so fast she wondered whether it had really occurred at all. "You forget your little cousins, my lady. Without me to look after their interests in the capital who would they turn to?"

She gave a harsh laugh at his reason for keeping him alive. "I think they would do better to trust Sandor Clegane with their lives. You'll have to do better than that Baelish."

"I make it a point to trade in secrets" he continued unconcerned with her threat. "And I think I have one that will interest you greatly."

"And I doubt there is anything you could tell me that I would find valuable enough to keep you alive" she replied.

"But this secret concerns little Arya Stark" he persisted finally catching her interest.

"And what is that?"

"Just a moment, my lady" he gently chided. "First we must strike the deal."

She took a moment to consider before replying. "Very well, Lord Baelish. We have a bargain. Besides I find I grow tired of the sight of blood. You may keep your head for now, but if you lie I will know. So I would strongly advise against it."

"A most generous decision" he thanked her before completing the trade. "When Lord Stark was arrested it seems his daughter Arya managed to slip through the queen's fingers. No one has heard anything since then of her whereabouts. As far as we know she is not even in the capital."

After hearing his surprising news, Amarah decided that it had been a fair negotiation after all. "Thank you for your information, Lord Baelish. I'm sure it will prove most helpful. Now I suggest you leave my sight before I change my mind."

"Your faithful servant, my lady" he replied with a mocking bow. As she watched him leave, Amarah considered the tale he had told her. With only Sansa in the Queen's clutches, Robb would never consent to trade Jaime Lannister for her. As much as Amarah loved her cousin, she understood that Sansa was not as valuable a prize in war as the dreaded Kingslayer. She would need to inform her aunt of this turn of events as soon as possible.

Quickly changing her course of direction, Amarah started towards Renly's tent near the center of camp. She had overheard Catelyn and Renly discussing a meeting that night over the proposed alliance between them, and there was a good chance her aunt would still be in attendance. However, while she walked along she saw two figures hurriedly moving in the opposite direction. As they came closer she recognized the tall, broad frame of Brienne of Tarth and with her was Catelyn Stark.

"Amarah" her aunt called out once she saw her. "Come with us, my dear! We must leave for Riverrun at once." At these words she began pulling a very bewildered Amarah along behind them.

"What are you talking about?" Amarah was terribly confused by her aunt's behavior. "I cannot abandon Renly now. In a few days time, he will march on King's Landing. He must have my support!"

Catelyn quickly broke their stride to regard her niece with a haunted expression that sent a shiver of dread through her bones. "Amarah, Renly is dead."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's Note: **__I've said it before but it can't be said enough how much I appreciate all the nice things you guys say about my story. Here's another chapter for you. Sorry it's not the most exiting but it's more of a transitional part in the story. Next chapter though someone we've all been waiting to see will make his reappearance. So stay tuned!_

* * *

They had ridden for two days straight before finally stopping to take a proper rest. Once Catelyn had informed Amarah of the details regarding Renly's death, she understood the need for urgency. Admittedly, Amarah found her aunt's tale about an assassin shadow to be a stretch to the imagination but she found it easier to believe than the tale that Brienne had carried out the deed instead. Looking towards the lady in questions, Amarah resolved to have a talk with her. Brienne had never seemed a terribly talkative person to begin with, but since departing the stormlands for Riverrun she had hardly uttered a single word.

Catelyn's men had already begun building a small fire to warm them for the night, but Brienne stood off to the side of their little camp tending to the horses. Walking over quietly so as not to spook either the creatures or the lady, Amarah assessed her with a wary gaze. She looked very tired after their journey, but more than that she looked depressed. Amarah had been saddened by the news of Renly's death but she had felt more shock than grief over his passing. Brienne seemed to be taking it much harder and for some reason Amarah felt the absurd need to comfort her.

"You have a good hand with them" she said quietly patting one of the sweaty horses on its nose. Brienne nodded her head in acknowledgement but said nothing. Undeterred Amarah continued on.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, my lady. What could you have done in the face of such a threat?"

"I vowed to protect him" she finally spoke in a harsh whisper. "But I failed."

Amarah regarded her with a sympathetic gaze before venturing a reply. "Punishing yourself over his death will not bring him back. You served him well, my lady."

"I would have served him my whole life" she admitted quietly.

"You loved him. Didn't you?" Amarah questioned, finally understanding the lady's devotion to her departed uncle. She considered telling Brienne the truth about Renly to maybe soften the blow of his passing but rejected the idea. Better to let her remember Renly as the brave, romantic king she had imagined him to be.

"I'm not sure I know what love is" Brienne finally replied after a few moments. "But I wanted to serve him. I knew he could never think of me in such a way. I'm not beautiful or charming, but I just wanted to be near him."

"I understand" Amarah answered thinking of her love for Robb. Brienne looked at her then with a skeptical gaze before Amarah finished her thought. "Beauty does not buy you love, Brienne. If it did I should gladly trade mine for a life of love and peace. As it is, that life sounds like a dream in a song. A song for fools who believe in such things."

"Why can you not have such a life?" Brienne questioned.

"Because I cannot have the man I love" she answered with a sad smile. "And I fear my life will never be a peaceful one. Not while Cersei Lannister lives."

Brienne looked slightly troubled at the mention of the queen's name. "Who will protect you from her?"

"I suppose I shall have to protect myself." Amarah had not given the matter much thought till now, but Renly's death would make her a much easier target for the queen's schemes. With his men now scattered to the wind there was no one to stand between Amarah and the queen's rage. The thought was disconcerting to say the least.

"Would you let me have that honor?" Brienne asked her.

Amarah had not anticipated that request. "You would serve me? But why? Would you not rather return home to your father?"

Brienne looked less than thrilled at that prospect. "There is nothing for me there. I would serve you, my lady. If you wish it."

"I would gladly accept your service" Amarah told her sincerely. Brienne had already proved herself capable enough to protect the fugitive princess, and besides her skill, loyalty was not a commodity cheaply purchased in the realm. Amarah would have been a fool to refuse such a generous offer.

After Amarah's favorable reply, Brienne knelt before her offering up her sword. "I pledge to you my loyalty, my faithfulness, and my service for as long as you shall wish it, my lady."

Giving her a kind smile, Amarah gestured for her to stand. "And I shall swear the same to you. You shall always have a place by my side while I live, Lady Brienne."

Brienne gave a small grimace at Amarah's use of her title. "You need only call me Brienne, my lady."

"I would be glad to, Brienne, but you must call me by my name in return."

"As you wish, my lady." Amarah gave an amused smile at her reply but did not correct her.

"We should reach Riverrun by tomorrow nightfall if all goes well" she informed her. "I suppose we shall stay there for the foreseeable future until Robb returns from his battles. I have no desire to support my Uncle Stannis's claim to the throne after what happened to Renly, as I have no doubt he played a hand in it. For now we stay with the Starks."

"I think that a wise decision" Brienne agreed. "I've heard it said Jaime Lannister is held prisoner in Riverrun."

That particular detail has escaped Amarah's memory until Brienne mentioned it. She remembered her warning to Catelyn about Jaime Lannister's possible escape. It would be most interesting to see if he was still in attendance when they returned. The thought of seeing him again caused within her an unexpected feeling of anticipation. She may have despised the man, but for a sparring partner in a battle of wit she could not have asked for a better opponent. He might be a man with shit for honor, but he still had his uses.

"To my knowledge he is still there. What do you know of him?" She was curious how much of Jaime Lannister's reputation preceded him.

"Only that he served the mad king before murdering him to serve the next one, and the pretender who sits on the throne is his bastard son" Brienne answered. "He does not sound like a very honorable knight."

Amarah gave a rueful laugh at her assessment of Jaime's character. "No, he does not." Deciding she wished to talk of the Kingslayer no more, Amarah bid her a good evening. "I shall leave you here to tend the horses. We leave for Riverrun at first light."

If Brienne was surprised by Amarah's sudden change in topic she did not show it. She simply bowed her head in acknowledgement before returning to the task at hand. After Amarah left Brienne she found her aunt who was warming her hands by the fire discussing something with one of her men. Amarah took a place next to her while waiting for them to finish their conversation.

Once the man had departed, Catelyn looked to Amarah with a weary expression. "I'm afraid I am getting to old to be riding about the country at such a pace."

Amarah laughed softly at her admission. "I am not certain whether age is the culprit or inexperience. After this journey is complete I shall be perfectly happy never to sit atop a horse ever again."

Catelyn smiled at that before her face turned serious once again. "What do you plan to do once we reach Riverrun?"

"I don't intend to join my Uncle Stannis" she informed her truthfully. "But beyond that I had not given it much thought. Robb had mentioned in one of his previous letters that I might return to Winterfell, but I feel as if I should stay and support him in some way."

Catelyn seemed to agree with this plan of action. "He would appreciate any support you could give him. With Renly's forces having now run to Stannis, we can only rely on our own strength."

"I have some news for you" Amarah said remembering her conversation with Littlefinger. "In the chaos of the past two days I have had no chance of discussing it with you. According to Peter Baelish the only one of your children being held in the capital is Sansa. Arya has not been seen by anyone since Ned's arrest weeks ago."

The color seemed to drain from Catelyn's face at this news. "No one knows where Arya is?"

"I'm afraid not" Amarah replied gently trying to soften the blow. "But she is a resourceful little thing, Aunt. I'm sure she is still alive. You would feel it if she was not."

"I suppose you are right." Some of the color had now returned to Catelyn's at this encouraging thought. "But Sansa. How are we ever to get her back from the queen now? I know Robb will never trade Jaime Lannister for her. He loves his sister but the men would revolt over such an action."

"We must discuss it with Robb once he returns" Amarah persuaded her. "Put such thoughts from your head for now. Sansa is too valuable for them to hurt her."

She wasn't entirely convinced of the truth of that statement. She knew Sansa was too valuable to kill but she also knew there was a possibility that the girl had been emotionally and physically abused during her captivity to the Lannisters. Joffrey was an unnaturally cruel boy who only seemed to take pleasure in the pain of others. He would no doubt find a great deal of pleasure in torturing the sister of the man who opposed his right to the throne. However, mentioning such thoughts to a worried mother would be of no help to anyone so she kept them to herself.

Thankfully, Catelyn heeded her advice. "I suppose you are right. But let us talk no more of it tonight. You should sleep now. It will be a long ride tomorrow if we are to reach Riverrun by nightfall."

"You should sleep as well" Amarah returned the motherly advice. "Goodnight, Aunt."

After Catelyn bid her the same, Amarah strolled towards the small tent the men had constructed for her. It was rather small but adequate enough due to her short stature. Since she had not experienced a proper sleep in three days she was deeply grateful for any type of shelter. Despite the hard ground and chilled air, it did not take long for her to succumb to a dreamless sleep. Just before she drifted into unconsciousness, she imagined a pair of green eyes silently mocking her in the dark. Only this time, the eyes did not belong to Cersei. This time they belonged to someone else.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **_Ok, here it is. Jaime's back! The romance will now slowly come into play. Both Amarah and Jaime still have some growing to do as people and they need each other's help to do that. It will be a fun ride though so enjoy!_

* * *

Amarah was overcome by a great sense of relief when she finally spotted the walls of Riverrun on the horizon. They had ridden all day over the rough land stopping only when necessary for small amounts of time. The red sun had sunk beyond the hills hours ago and a sharp, biting wind now swept across the plains as they rode on. Pulling her cloak more closely about her shoulders, Amarah gritted her teeth against the cold and continued on. All the while keeping those welcoming walls within her sights.

After what seemed an eternity, their company finally cantered across the drawbridge of the keep. As they rode in Amarah noticed several corpses mounted on poles across the top of the stone wall. Squinting in the darkness, she saw the gleam of Lannister gold on the dead men. Her theory about Tyrion's plans to release his brother must have been correct. However, due to the corpses that now lined the wall, she doubted the attempt had been successful. Breathing a small sigh of relief at that reassurance, she followed Catelyn and her men into the courtyard before dismounting. She found it took a few moments for her to work the soreness from her limbs before she could properly walk again.

Brienne caught sight of her stilted movements and seemed to understand the source of her discomfort. "Give it a moment, my lady" she advised her. "The pain will lessen soon."

"I'm fear I'm not as good a horsewoman as you" Amarah admitted with a grunt of pain as she twisted her body around trying to restore the feeling to her lower limbs.

"It takes practice" Brienne replied with a modest shrug.

Amarah gave a harsh laugh at that advice. "Well it would appear that I need more."

After a few moments, she came to the decision that she would rather be sore within the warmth of the keep rather than out in the cold, muddy courtyard. So she began her way inside with a small grimace of pain as she hobbled along. However, Brienne's words proved true as the feeling slowly returned to her legs leaving more of a dull ache than the sharp pain from minutes before. She doubted though if her delicate bottom would ever recover from the beating it had taken over the past three days from her saddle. With that morose thought, she entered the great hall where the servants were already scrambling to prepare the table for their late arrival. Amarah heard her stomach rumble in appreciation at the sight of food. They had not had a decent meal since departing the stormlands and all that riding about the countryside had given her quite an appetite.

"Come, Brienne" she ordered her lady knight who had followed her inside. "I'm not ashamed to admit I am famished after our journey. You must be hungry as well."

"I will wait to eat with the men, my lady. There is no need to concern yourself with me."

Amarah turned to her lady knight with ill-concealed impatience. "There is no reason for you to eat with the men. You might wear armor instead of a dress and you might walk and talk and fight like a man but you are still a lady. You cannot stop being what you are, Brienne, whether you want to or not. And you will eat with me and Lady Catelyn as is entirely proper."

Not stopping to hear any more arguments from her over that order, Amarah went to join Catelyn who already sat at the table near the large fireplace at the end of the room. As she walked briskly in that direction, Amarah listened to hear the stubborn shuffle of feet as Brienne followed her. Her words to the lady might have been a bit harsh, but Amarah was too weary at the moment to give much consideration to anyone else's feelings.

"Where is your brother Edmure?" Amarah questioned her aunt once taking her seat at the rough-hewn table where all manner of food had been placed before them. She had been expecting the man in question to make an appearance at there arrival, but he was no where to be seen.

"My men say he has gone to the crossing with his army to stop Gregor Clegane's forces from further invading the riverlands."

That explained his lack of appearance but not the sight that had greeted their eyes on the way into the keep. "Why are there slaughtered Lannister guards on display above the wall?"

"They came here under false pretenses, my lady." This answer came from one of the Tully soldiers who had come in to greet them. "They came back with one of the Lannister prisoners from King's Landing after he had brought us the Joffrey's answer to King Robb's peace terms. We fed them and offered shelter, and they repaid us by attacking our men to free Jaime Lannister."

"What happened?" she asked intrigued by the tale.

"The Kingslayer escaped where we were holding him in the tower before we were once again able to apprehend him, but not before he killed a good many of our men. He's been moved to the dungeons where we're keeping him chained up until King Robb comes back from his battles. We can't risk him escaping again."

Catelyn turned to question him now after the story was finished. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Just after you and Ser Edmure left the keep, my lady. About seven days ago."

"What have you done with Jaime since then besides chaining him to a wall?" This question came from Amarah.

"We have guards watching over him day and night to make sure he causes no other trouble" the man assured her. "We've given him some food and water but not much since the supply is scarce."

Amarah understood the need to retain what little supplies they had since Gregor Clegane had been moving through the riverlands pillaging and burning everything in his path. Still, it would not do to have Kingslayer waste away from lack of nourishment. He was a valuable prisoner and they could not afford to lose him to ill health.

Catelyn thanked the man and dismissed him before they finished their meal in relative silence. Amarah was still very sore, but the warmth from the fire which slowly seeped into her chilled bones helped her forget the pain in other regions of her body. She looked to Brienne who ate in silence as well staring into the leaping gold and red flames of the fire but made no attempt to engage her in conversation. Once they had finished, Amarah took a loaf of bread from the table and tucked it under her arm before asking Brienne to procure a flagon of water from the kitchens. Catelyn looked to her with a questioning gaze over her strange actions.

"We cannot leave him to rot down there without any food or water" she answered with a helpless shrug of her shoulders letting her aunt guess to whom she was referring.

Catelyn did not look too pleased by her intentions. "You intend to show kindness to the man who threw my son from a tower because Bran saw him committing incest with the queen?"

Amarah hastened to assure her that kindness was not her motivation. "You mistake my intentions for an act of kindness aunt. He is a valuable prisoner and we cannot lose him to illness because of malnourishment. How do you ever expect to regain Sansa from his sister's clutches if he dies in Riverrun's dungeons? I assure you if Jaime dies, then the queen would not hesitate to take her revenge on Robb's sister."

It was a harsh truth but an honest one. Catelyn finally relented with a defeated slump of her shoulders. "I suppose you are right."

"Thank you" Amarah said before bending down to give her a comforting hug. She understood Catelyn's reluctance to show mercy to Jaime, but Amarah needed to reassure herself that he was not on the brink of death. She had claimed it was not an act of kindness, but it was. Not for Jaime but for the brother that loved him despite his despicable and dishonorable nature. Without Jaime, Tyrion would be left with very few people in the world that cared about him. Despite his other faults, Jaime did truly care for his younger brother, and it was the only trait he possessed that kept Amarah from despising him entirely.

Soon Brienne returned with the water that Amarah had requested and she took a moment to collect her nerves before entering another match of verbal sparring against Jaime Lannister. She doubted his captivity had in any way diminished that sharp tongue of his, and she would have to be fully prepared to come out of this meeting unscathed. After taking a few moments to gather her courage, she began marching in the direction of the dungeons with a determined stride. It was time to meet the lion in his cage.

* * *

Jaime sat in the darkness of his prison cell counting the number of stones in the ceiling above to stave off the madness that threatened to consume him. After spending so many days chained up in this dark room it was becoming increasingly difficult to find ways of keeping his tortured mind occupied in the gloomy stillness. In reality he had lost count of the days and nights since he had been here with no windows in the dungeons to even let him see the light of day. Everything here was a dark as night and just as bleak.

Considering his warrior's nature that only seemed at peace when he was fighting in a bloody battle, it was a small wonder that he had not yet fallen prey to the madness that threatened him. But when the darkness tempted to cover his mind he forced himself to think of Cersei, his beautiful love who waited for him to return. He pictured how her green, temptress eyes would beckon him to her as she slowly seduced him into another bout of their violent lovemaking. He would think of Tyrion who knew him for what he truly was, not the monster that the entire world painted him to be. He survived this madness for them. The family he loved.

He was distracted from thoughts of Cersei and Tyrion when he heard a key turn in the door of his cell. The wooden door slowly creaked open before he was momentarily blinded by the glare of a torch that filled his shadowy prison with blessed light. Peering through the blurry haze, he looked to see who had joined him in his personal hell of darkness. Once his eyes had adjusted to the glare of light he looked into the icy gaze of Amarah Baratheon. He could not have been more shocked if Lady Stark herself had entered his cell naked from head to toe begging him to make good on his callous offer months before after the death of her husband.

Amarah was certainly not naked though. She no longer wore the silks and jewels of the capital which he was so accustomed to seeing her in. Now her luscious curves were swathed in the grey colors of house Stark which seemed to match so well the stony grey in her cold eyes. Despite her frigid demeanor though, she had lost none of her famous beauty. Her raven's black hair cascaded down to her waist in unruly curls giving her the appearance of the wildings that roamed north of the wall. She had the kind of loveliness that left him cold though. Not the fiery beauty of his sister which consumed his every thought.

"Well I must say this is an unexpected pleasure, princess" he drawled in a lazy tone after he had finally regained the power of speech.

And in a rare moment of honesty with the girl, he meant what he said. While she may have left him unmoved by her beauty, he found her mind her most attractive asset of all. Not many women in the seven kingdoms possessed the mental agility to stand up to his verbal assaults and come back with one of their own. But the icy princess Baratheon more than matched his skill with her razor sharp mind and equally sharp tongue, even going so far as to best him on some occasions. Not that he would ever admit it of course. He found the prospect of flinging gibes at that frozen wall of hers to see how far he could crack it much more entertaining than counting the stones that lined his cell.

"Oh I'm certain of that" she replied to his greeting with an unamused roll of her grey eyes. After this statement she turned back to the open door to beckon someone else into the small, cramped space. His surprise at Amarah's appearance only grew at the next person who entered his cell. _Gods! What is that?_ he wondered as the beast faced him after closing the door.

Noticing his perplexed expression, Amarah made the introductions. "This is Lady Brienne of Tarth" she gestured towards the massive creature. It did not look much like a woman save for a pair of startling blue eyes in her freckled, ugly face. It was the only feature he could find that remotely indicated she was female.

"Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock" he nodded his head at the creature in mock civility. "I must say, _my lady_, I have never seen anything quite like you. Or quite so ugly as a matter of fact."

The wench's face hardened in response to that rude insult but she gave no other indication that she had heard him. Amarah shot him a displeased look over his cruel remarks to her bodyguard. At least that was why he assumed she had brought the creature here. To defend her against the dreaded Kingslayer. Fortunately for both women he was bound by chains. If his hands had been free, no one could defend her from him. Most certainly not this thing that stood before him now.

"You look rather unappealing yourself" Amarah returned his insult looking him over with a disgusted gaze. He had not looked in a glass since the Stark boy had taken him captive, but his appearance was no doubt as wretched as her expression indicated. She leaned over a bit to inspect him more closely but suddenly jerked back with a repulsed expression.

"Gods!" she gasped before turning her head away from him to take in gulp of clean air. "You smell worse than you look!"

He took the insult in stride. "My apologies for the odor and appearance, princess. Perhaps we should call the guard for some water and a sponge for you to bathe me properly."

She looked more revolted by that suggestion than his unappealing smell. "Why don't I simply feed you instead."

She then produced from under her cloak a fresh loaf of bread that instantly caused his mouth to water once its smell reached his nose. He had barely been fed since being thrown into this dungeon so even a roasted rat would sound appealing to his empty stomach, but the bread she offered was a very agreeable alternative. Instead of handing it to him, she opted to toss it across the small space into his empty lap. Probably due to his smell which so offended her.

Forgetting his well instilled manners for eating in the presence of a lady, Jaime fell on the offering like the starving man he was. After the first few blissful bites, he forced himself to eat the fare at a slower pace. He doubted her generosity would extend beyond this, and he didn't know when he would be enjoying such a meal again.

Between mouthfuls of food, he managed to question her about the unexpected gesture. "I didn't know you cared enough to feed me, princess."

She looked at him with a blank expression he could not interpret before responding. "I didn't do it for you."

Interested by her response, he abandoned his meal for a moment to consider her with a penetrating gaze. She was a dammed difficult thing to read. With most women, his sister included, he could tell their feelings just by one glance at their faces. With this girl, it was different. Sometimes he could push her far enough with his well placed insults to glimpse the emotions she kept buried beneath that detached façade, but most of the time he was as mystified by her true emotions as the rest of the world.

"Might I inquire who inspired this kindness then?" he finally questioned after failing to read her thoughts.

At first it seemed as if she would not respond, but after giving a resigned sigh she finally spoke. "I did it for Tyrion. There are few people he truly cares for and for some unexplainable reason you happen to be one of them. He would not be terribly pleased to hear you had died from starvation while in my cousin's keeping."

Jaime had always been aware of her high regard of Tyrion, but he had not known how far that regard went until this moment. Her presence here indicated that she was on the opposing side of the war from his family, but she obviously still cared enough about his little brother to make sure the Kingslayer was still breathing. He had noticed from her first years in the capital how Tyrion had seemed to dote on the little princess that Cersei tortured daily. Perhaps Tyrion and Amarah had both found common ground in the fact that they both hated his sister. Whatever the cause, they had grown close over their years together in court, and despite the poison Cersei daily whispered in his ear about the "little whore" princess, Jaime could not hate the girl who had given his brother some small amount of happiness by bestowing her friendship on the little lord. However, at the moment he was curious just how much happiness she had given Tyrion.

"How surprising that you stoop to help a man you hate so much all for my brother's sake" he said letting his gaze roam crudely up and down her bundled figure. "Tell me, have you let my brother sample those abundant charms of yours?"

At this, the silent creature who had yet to move a muscle, suddenly pulled her sword from its scabbard and held it to his throat until he could feel the cold steel press against his clammy skin. "You should not address my lady with such insolence" she snarled at him.

"Brienne" he heard Amarah reprimand her in a sharp tone. The wench looked put out that she would not have the opportunity to separate his head from his shoulders, but pulled back with obvious reluctance before sheathing her sword once again. Jaime opted for silence in the case that the wench changed her mind. Normally he would continue to provoke her, but not with his hands chained together and a sword in her hands. He might enjoy torturing the wench but he was no fool.

Amarah made certain that her creature's bout of rage had passed before slowly approaching Jaime with something else besides bread under her arm. Jaime wondered if she had given in to the urge to kill him herself before he felt her press a cool jug of water in his shackled hands. After doing this she leaned even farther in, despite his overwhelming stench, to whisper something in his ear. As she moved closer he caught her scent which was so different from his own. She smelled like wind and fresh, cold air. She smelled like freedom.

"You'll never be the man he is" Amarah quietly mocked him in his ear, her soft breath tickling the small hairs at the back of his neck. "Say your prayers to the Seven, Kingslayer, for they are the only ones who can help you now."

After these words she pulled back robbing him of her pleasing scent and gestured for the wench to open the door. Giving him one last disdainful look she turned and left with the creature hot on her heels. Then they closed the door with a dull sounding thud, leaving him once again in the desolate darkness.

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_Please review! What did you think of a scene finally from Jaime's perspective? If you guys liked it I will definitely try to write more from his POV (but of course Amarah will still be the main point of view). Let me know what you think! Thanks so much for reading:)_


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **_Thanks so much for the reviews! I understand that I am making you guys wait for the romance but with the way I've set up Amarah and her relationship so far with Jaime I can't throw in a bunch of romantic stuff into the scenes right now. It just wouldn't be realistic since so far they've pretty much only seen the worst side of each other, but I promise it __will__ happen, just not right this moment. I really just want to make sure the romance feels natural and not rushed. They really have to get to understand one another before the loving can happen, so that's what these next several chapters will be about (after this one). I've definitely written some "moments" in there but we aren't to the full blown romance for a little while yet. Sorry, you just have to be a bit more patient with me. Anyhow read on!_

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Amarah stared at the letter before her in a state of disbelief. The missive which she now held in her hand had been delivered by one of Winterfell's ravens mere hours ago. Hoping somehow she had misunderstood the letter's meaning, she reread the words once again, but there had been no mistake.

"That bastard!" she muttered to herself in a furious whisper.

Brienne had not yet looked at the note which Amarah held in her hand, but she seemed to guess by her lady's demeanor the news had not been good. "Can I be of some service, my lady?"

Amarah shook her head in denial of the request. "Unless you can somehow resurrect Bran and Rickon from their graves or throw Theon Greyjoy into the nearest sea, bound hand and foot, I'm afraid there is nothing you can do."

Brienne seemed a bit taken back at the blatant fury in her tone. The only time she had seen Amarah in a fit of tempter was directly after the failed attempt on her life, but she had not been as livid as this. The fury practically rolled off her in visible waves of heat. For a girl so commonly referred to the ice princess, she was anything but that now.

"Has my aunt seen this?" she suddenly asked Brienne before shoving the offending letter under the lady knight's nose, as if Brienne did not understand to what she referred.

"I believe so" Brienne answered with an affirmative nod of her head.

It worried Amarah that her aunt had already been told of this news but was nowhere to be seen. She needed to find her as soon as possible. "Does anyone know where she has gone?"

Brienne simply gave a hapless shrug of her shoulders, not having any idea of Lady Stark's whereabouts. Amarah was on the brink of running throughout the halls of the keep shouting her aunt's name before one of the servants came running into the hall in search of her. Due to the late hour, many of the servants had already retired to their quarters for the evening. So Amarah assumed if this man was still about, it was for an important reason.

"My lady!" he called out as soon as he spotted her near the large, blazing fireplace. "Lady Stark wishes you to come to her as soon as possible. She is with the Kingslayer below in the dungeons."

That was hardly a reassuring bit of news. "Does anyone know she is there?"

"No, my lady" he answered with a worried frown. "She instructed me to come find you but made me swear not to tell her brother's men where she is. Lady Stark seemed quite distraught when I left her. I think you should go to her as quickly as possible."

Amarah did not need any further prodding before quickly taking off in the direction of the dungeons. She prayed to the Seven she could arrive in time to prevent her aunt from doing anything foolish. Things had been relatively peaceful in the keep since their arrival almost two weeks ago. Edmure Tully still battled the Gregor Clegane's army near the crossing, but he and his men had managed to keep their forces at bay. Due to his and Robb's efforts, Riverrun had remained untouched by the enemy forces, providing a safe haven to those within its walls. With the positive tidings from their forces in the field, Amarah had almost begun to believe that events in this war were finally turning in her favor, but that was before she had seen that dreadful letter. The letter telling of the turncloak Theon Greyjoy's capture of her childhood home and his murder of two innocent children.

As painful as the news was for her, she could only imagine how much pain it had caused her beloved aunt. Bran and Rickon were Catelyn's children, and that monster had slaughtered them both like animals. She had always known Theon Greyjoy to be a selfish boy, but she never could have imagined the depths he would sink to in order to have his revenge on the family that had held sheltered him for so many years. If she had been able, Amarah would have marched to Winterfell herself to remove the traitor's head. She only hoped her aunt had not decided to take that same approach with the prisoner that now sat below in the dungeons. Jaime Lannister might be a dreadful human being, but he did not deserve to die for the crimes of another.

Amarah had not returned to the dungeons since visiting Jaime that first night in Riverrun, but she remembered perfectly where they were. All one needed to do was follow the putrid odor. She had been shocked at Jaime's appearance when she found him sitting there rotting away in his own waste. He had obviously not been shaved or even given a decent bath since being taken prisoner all those months ago at the Battle of Whispering Wood. She had always thought he exhibited the confident behavior of a prowling lion but with the mangy beard and hair he now looked like one as well. On some men it would look pathetic, but on Jaime Lannister it looked dangerous.

With these different thoughts running through her head, she finally arrived at the dungeons below the keep. As she approached the door to Jaime's cell she was disturbed to find the man who had been meant to guard door slumped over in a heap. Fearful that he might be dead, she quickly felt his neck for a pulse and was relieved to find him still alive.

"He's received a blow to the head" Brienne pointed out after arriving on the scene soon after Amarah. "His sword is gone as well."

Amarah gave Brienne a distressed glance at that news. "Gods! I hope she has not gone and killed the bastard."

After voicing this thought, Amarah rose to push open the unlocked cell door. She was almost afraid to see what her aunt had done, but she bravely proceeded in. Because of the cramped space Brienne chose to stay at the entrance rather than enter the room with her, but the lady knight kept a close eye on the others in the room. Once she had entered, Amarah noted with relief that Jaime's head was still in tact, but Catelyn stood before him gripping the sword she had taken from the soldier at the door. For his part, Jaime did not look too concerned with the angry woman who threatened his life.

"Aunt!" Amarah cried seeing the sword in her hands. "Are you mad? Jaime Lannister is Robb's most valuable prisoner in this war. You should not even be here with him, much less threatening his life."

"I don't intend to kill him" Catelyn answered never taking her gaze from the man in question. "I intend to free him."

_The seven preserve us_ Amarah thought in alarm. _She truly has gone mad._ Deciding that gentleness would be a wiser course of action, Amarah slowly approached the armed woman. Without saying anything, she simply held out both hands, silently requesting the sword in Catelyn's hands. Her aunt looked very reluctant to give it up, but after catching sight of Brienne's imposing figure behind them, she finally relinquished the weapon. Not bothering to hide her sigh of relief, Amarah swiftly passed it off to Brienne before turning again to face her aunt.

"Now suppose you tell me why you want to free this man" she stated in a calm, even voice. Amarah had valiantly suppressed her earlier anger in an attempt to bring her aunt back to a reasonable frame of mind. It would not do to work the hysterical woman into a greater state anxiety by showing her own agitation.

"His brother sent word he would trade my daughter for the Kingslayer. If we are ever to see Sansa again I must release him" Catelyn said gesturing to Jaime who had still remained silent to this point. "I need my daughter, Amarah. I cannot loose anymore of my children."

She was becoming a bit hysterical now, and Amarah hastily attempted to calm her. "You cannot trust him, Aunt. If you release Kinglsayer, he will never live up to his end of the bargain to return Sansa. He has proven many times that he has no honor."

"I don't intend to just set him free" Catelyn stated in a calmer voice. Despite her more relaxed demeanor, Amarah felt an immediate sense of foreboding at the determined gleam that had entered Catelyn's eye. "I want you to take him to King's Landing for me. You're the only one I can trust to do this."

Amarah was so dumbfounded by this outrageous notion that she could hardly think of a reply. Taking advantage of her speechlessness, Jaime answered for her. "I told her you would never agree to it. It would be better to just kill me now."

Amarah finally found her voice at his obvious attempt to goad her. "You'd prefer that wouldn't you? Better to be dead than have to sit in this disgusting prison with nothing but your own thoughts of how useless you've become."

She could tell from the quick flash of anger on his face, she had correctly interpreted his thoughts. "I suppose you should return me to the capital then. It's either that or the sword, Princess. Lady Catelyn is in a fine state since Greyjoy has finally accomplished what I could not."

The look on Catelyn's face after his cruel remarks made Amarah thankful she had the foresight to dispose of her aunt's sword or she surely would have swung it at him now. Diffusing the current tension caused by his heartless comment, Amarah ignored him once again in favor of reasoning with her aunt.

"Surely you must see that I cannot do what you ask. Robb would never allow it, and he would hate me for betraying him in such a way. He might never forgive me. I couldn't bear that." She spoke this last sentence so quietly that only her aunt could pick up on the words.

Catelyn gave her hands a reasurring squeeze before replying in the same hushed tones. "My dear, he could never despise you. And if you can bring Sansa back to us, I know he would forgive you any transgression."

"It's not that easy, Aunt" she replied with a sad shake of her head. "No matter what Robb's regard for me, he could never forgive so blatant an act of disobedience. I cannot do what you ask."

"But you promised me" Catelyn replied in a sad whisper. "You promised me to look after them. Now you have the chance to fulfill that promise and bring my daughter back to me, but you choose not to."

Catelyn's tears were Amarah's undoing. She tried to stay strong in her resistance to this absolutely ludicrous plan, but she felt her resolve weakening under the onslaught of her Aunt's grief. All the guilt Amarah had tried to suppress since abandoning her family to Joffrey and his mother's mercy months ago came flooding back. She pictured Sansa's face in her mind as it must appear now. Instead of hope and wonder, her eyes were shadowed by the grief and horror she had been exposed to at Joffrey's hands. Gods, it was a bleak, cheerless image, and she felt somehow responsible for it.

"But why must it be me?" Amarah cried in frustration. Frustration at her aunt for asking such asking such a ridiculous request and frustration at herself for considering it.

Catelyn seemed to take some hope from the fact that Amarah had not refused her all together. "Because you are the only one I trust to do this. You can speak with Tyrion Lannister to exchange his brother for Sansa. You say Kingslayer has no honor but you have also told me that his brother does. You are the only one who can do this, Amarah. I need this from you."

"And if I refuse?" she questioned with one last attempt at resistance.

Catelyn's face became very hard at that question. "Then _I_ should never forgive you."

Amarah felt a tight fist of pain clench around her heart at those words. How could Catelyn ask this of her? Glancing at the man they discussed with such ferocious intent, she found him looking at her with a curious gaze at what her decision would be. Trapped for a moment by the green, emerald eyes, Amarah was struck with a surprising jolt of sympathy for the man trapped away here in his horrid prison. Giving him a fierce scowl over the unwelcome sentiment, she withdrew her gaze to look towards Brienne who still stood silently in the doorway. Amarah tried to send her a silent plea for help, but Brienne looked as confused as she felt. Gods, she couldn't believe what she was about to agree to. It went against every fiber of her being to help a Lannister, but she felt almost helpless to refuse. The words were already out of her mouth before she had time to think.

"Very well, Aunt" she replied with a defeated sigh. "I will do what you ask. But if I do this, I take Brienne with me. I would have no hope of controlling him by myself."

Simply content enough that Amarah had agreed, Catelyn consented to her niece's condition before holding her tightly in silent thanks. However, her appreciation was cut short by Jaime Lannister's voice. "You think you can control me _with_ the wench?"

Withdrawing from her aunt's embrace, Amarah marched to face the man who's undesirable company she would be saddled with for the foreseeable future. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating her, Kingslayer. If you give me any trouble I would feel no compunction in letting her separate that traitorous head from the rest of you."

He only gave an amused grin at her threat. "This should be fun, Princess."

_Seven Hells!_ she groaned inwardly at his smile of anticipation. _What have I done?_

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_Well there it is. I struggled a lot with this chapter on how to make it believable that Amarah would make this decision to help release Jaime when it isn't something she would normally agree to. But her strongest sense of honor is when it comes to her family so I felt that her guilt was good enough reason for her to make an emotional decision rather than a rational one. Anyway, just a quick explanation on my part for her motivation here. Thanks for reading! _


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **_Here's the next update. I've gotten a bit busier lately so it will be hard to update mostly every day like I have been, but I'll keep the chapters coming as soon as I can. This one's another chapter from Jaime's POV. Those take a bit longer to write since his brain is sometimes hard for me to get into. Anyway, hope ya'll like it!_

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Jaime Lannister closed his eyes in rapturous bliss as he felt the warm sun beat down on his face. After being imprisoned for months he was not taking the freedom he now had for granted. Of course, it was not _precisely_ freedom with his wrists still shackled together and two very grumpy women prodding him along, but it was a significant improvement over his previous circumstances. When Lady Catelyn had burst into his cell the evening before, he had fully expected her to cut him clean through without a second's thought. What had followed though was the most bizarre chain of events that he never would have believed had he not been present to witness them. And now here he stood with the breeze blowing through his wild mane and the welcoming sun warming his skin.

A strident voice suddenly broke into his pleasant thoughts. "Are we going to keep moving or would you rather stand there all day sniffing the air?"

Amarah Baratheon had been in a fine fit of temper since orchestrating his escape from Riverrun. Jaime was still in a bit of disbelief that she had agreed to her aunt's plan of trading him to Tyrion for Sansa Stark. She must have felt a tremendous amount of guilt over young Sansa's imprisonment to defy Robb Stark's authority for a man she professed to hate. But Jaime was not one to question a fortuitous turn of events in his favor. If she was willing to help him escape, no matter how ill-tempered in the process, he would accept her assistance. That didn't mean he had to make the experience easy for her.

"Forgive me, Princess" he said in false contrition. "One simply learns to enjoy the simple pleasures in life after months of being chained up like an animal."

She did not seem too impressed by that sentiment. "Well then by all means stand here and enjoy the simple pleasures of life, Kingslayer. Just don't expect my help when Edmure's men catch up with us."

"It would take them some time to catch us on foot" he reasoned just to irritate her further. He decided that he preferred her like this. That mask of hers which hid so well her true emotions only seemed to slip when he was able to goad her into a fit of temper. Like this, she would be much easier to defeat in the many verbal skirmishes they were sure to engage in over the course of this journey.

At the moment, however, Amarah did not seem to be in the mood to trade quips. "Brienne!" she called out loudly enough for the wench to hear but not any soldiers who might be patrolling the land. The wench appeared a few moments later with a disgruntled look on her ugly face at the delay.

Amarah regarded him with a clever smile while addressing the wench. "Brienne, if Ser Jaime causes any further delays you have my permission to knock him unconscious before carting him the rest of the way to the river."

With these words she pivoted around and continued on without waiting to see his response. Jaime considered prolonging the wait for a moment longer, but at the wench's eager expression to bash him over the skull, he decided it would be in his best interest to keep moving along. They walked for some time longer before finally reaching the river. Amarah had mentioned it would be much quicker to travel by boat and Jaime agreed with that sentiment.

As they walked along, he took the opportunity to harass the wench with all manner of well placed jibes. She might be eager to knock him upside the head as Amarah suggested but as long as he kept moving with them, she had no reason to employ brute force. So he pushed and prodded, regaling her with all sorts of inquiries over how it felt to be such a hideous beast and if she had ever really known the truest advantage of being a woman. After all, what man would want to make love to such a beast if not simply for the sport of a challenge? Through all his snide remarks the wench remained stubbornly silent, but a ruddy shade of red began to color the back of her neck making her look even more ridiculous.

When they finally reached the river, Amarah bid him to stand still on the banks while Brienne went to fetch a small, abandoned fishing boat a small distance from where they stood. Amarah had been silent since issuing her earlier command to Brienne about knocking Jaime unconscious, but once the large wench was out of earshot, she turned on Jaime with the ferocious look of a she-wolf protecting her pups. For a stag, she seemed to have a great deal of the wolf in her.

"One more comment about her size or looks and I'll gag you myself" she practically growled at him with a fierce frown.

He responded to her threat with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders. "I doubt that, Princess."

Amarah gave a harsh laugh at his words. "I've had to endure the death of my father to a _pig_, my Uncle Ned's beheading at the hands of _your_ evil spawn, my other uncle's assassination by some bizarre shadow creature, and the brutal killings of my little Stark cousins. If you think I wouldn't gag you simply for a brief moment of peace and quiet, then you must be more stupid than you are vile, and that is simply not possible."

"Careful, Princess" he answered with a charming smile. "Any more lovely complements like that and I might never want to leave your side."

He was taken momentarily off guard but the look of genuine amusement that flashed through her eyes at his joking comment. Gods, she was a pretty little thing when she wasn't busy scowling at him. Shaking his head at the unwelcome thought, he suddenly found an intense interest in studying the multitude of ripples that floated across the surface of the muddy river. She must have taken his silence as accommodation to her request that he stop badgering her body guard, for she remained silent as well while Brienne returned with the boat.

Both women waited until he had climbed awkwardly into the boat before entering in after him. Brienne sat at the head of the boat, and Amarah situated herself in the middle facing him while the wench took the oars to move their little vessel along the river. He assumed she was not comfortable with the thought of her back to him, so she sat there eyeing him with a watchful gaze. The brief amusement which had lit her eyes moments before was gone now, leaving a wary distrust in its place. He felt a faint stirring of irritation in the way she looked at him, the deceitful Kingslayer. A man so undeserving of her precious trust.

Keeping his annoyance to himself, he looked away from the judgment in her eyes and stared at his reflection in the water. The man who looked back at him was practically a stranger. Amarah had spoken truthfully all those nights ago when she had told him he looked terrible. His once golden, shining locks had now grown long and were covered in dirt and filth. The long beard on his chin had the same grimy look and covered a good deal of his smudge-streaked face. He wondered what Cersei would think if she saw him as he was now. The image brought to mind was not a comforting one. She liked him at his best, his most glorious. The most perfect male version of herself in all her magnificent, mesmerizing beauty. Tearing his eyes away from the imperfect sight of himself, he looked back to the girl who sat in front of him. As he had gazed at the water, she must have felt safe enough to take her eyes away from him and look about to ensure sure they were alone on the river.

"Do you have a knife about you, Princess?" he questioned recapturing her wandering attention.

She gave him a wary gaze over that strange inquiry. "Why? Would you like me to put you out of your misery?"

"Unfortunately for you, no. I wish to cut off this undesirable mane I seem to have acquired while enjoying your boy king's hospitality."

"And how do you intend to do that with your hands bound together?" she questioned him with the same suspicious expression.

"I don't intend to do it myself" he answered with a chiding look over her ignorance of what he intended.

Catching onto his meaning, her dubious expression turned suddenly sour. "I'm not your squire, Kingslayer."

"And I would never regard you as so" he replied condescendingly. "However, it might help our, I beg your pardon, _my _cause if my appearance changed somewhat slightly from what it was before I escaped."

"He has a point, my lady" said Brienne from the front of the boat where she had been listening to their conversation.

Amarah shot Brienne an annoyed frown over her agreement with Jaime. She said nothing after the wench's remark but simply gave him a very thorough examination from head-to-toe. A look of disgust slowly crept over her features as she inspected his appearance in the unforgiving daylight. Jaime was hardly as vain about his appearance as some knights, but her obvious revulsion at the thought of touching him was a bit chaffing to his already sore pride. So he simply gave her a grating smile in return to keep her from knowing how much her reluctance to help insulted him.

"Very well" she finally surrendered. "But if you try anything to harm me, simply keep in mind the dagger I will be holding so closely to your throat. I doubt I would miss."

"Such a dishonorable thought never crossed my mind" he lied smoothly. He _had_ contemplated trying to wrestle the weapon from her hands, but even if he succeeded, their location made his escape unlikely.

From the look on her face, she did not believe what he said but remained silent. Bending down, she pulled up the hem of her rough-spun dress to reveal a pair of shapely calves and ankles beneath. Being away from his sister so long had left him more vulnerable to the sight of female charms than usual, and he felt a small prick of guilt as he drank in the womanly sight. While the princess might be an exasperating female, she was built most agreeably. She had a leather strip secured around the top of her left calf just under the knee where he watched her unsheathed a small, shiny dagger. Dropping her skirt to once again hide the pleasant view, she slowly moved towards him in the small, cramped space.

The rocking of the boat made it difficult for her to get close enough to him without accidentally upsetting the delicate balance of their vessel. One wrong move and they would all three be in the water, and with his hands bound together as they were he appreciated her careful movements to avoid such an occurrence. Eventually she managed to crawl close enough to grab a hold of his hair by rising slightly up on her knees. However, a quick jolt of the boat caused by an unexpected wave sent her flying into his lap. Her hand without the dagger barely missed smashing into his manhood as he was quick enough to shield himself from her small fist.

"Careful, Princess" he warned her. "You might unman me."

She gave him a devilish smile before replying. "I thought Cersei had already taken care of that."

Jaime was good at deflecting comments that cast aspersions on his own character, but he did not like Amarah taking a jab at his relationship with his sister. "You don't know anything about what goes on between me and my sister, Princess." He kept his tone even but under laid it with just a hint of steel to warn her away from that subject. She apparently did not notice the warning or simply ignored it. As she proceeded to slash off handfuls of his long hair, she continued their conversation as if they were discussing any normal bit of gossip.

"I know enough to see she's been leading you around by that cock of yours for longer than I care to think about. Do you know the only 'motherly' advice Cersei ever attempted to convey to me all those years I resided in the capital? She told me that as a woman I had two weapons available to me. My tears and that hole between my legs, and I had best learn to use both if I ever expected to have any power over the men who wished to control me. I would say she practiced her weapons on _you_ most effectively."

He was not certain what to think of what she had just told him, but decided to turn the conversation on her instead to avoid letting her drop her bits of poison into his mind about Cersei. "And I would gather you also took that advice to heart. Tell me, how many knights did you have to fuck to place your spies around court? Did you share your favors with the squires and servant boys too in order gain that control you craved to have over your own life? And what about my brother? How often did you have to fuck him to earn his loyalty?"

She continued sawing away at his mangy locks without meeting his cruel gaze, but an unconcerned smile graced her lips at his rude questions. "That's the trouble with you Kingslayer. You think that in order to gain loyalty we must seduce everyone with either money or the promise of a good fuck. Sometime people simply respond to kindness. Not that you would know anything about that."

He gave a harsh laugh at that. "You expect me to believe you showed kindness to those below your station, the lofty princess Baratheon? I find a good bout of fucking much more credible."

She stopped her work for a moment finally meeting his eyes. "I don't expect you to believe anything about me, Kingslayer. You don't understand me because you don't want to."

"I could say the same for you, Princess" he returned.

"Your actions speak to the truth of your character" she responded before turning her attention once again to the task at hand. She said nothing after that, but Jaime was not prepared to end their conversation so abruptly.

"You must be right, Princess. You know every facet of my despicable character from evidence of my broken vows, and you are a saint among us mortals."

"I never said I was better than anyone else" she defended herself before shooting him a quick, irritated glance. "And I don't determine my judgment of you based only on broken vows. Throwing an innocent child from a window is hardly the act of a good man."

"He was spying on me" Jaime reasoned in a bored voice. "He shouldn't have been there in the first place."

He had finally managed to elicit an angry response from her at explaining his reasons for throwing Bran Stark off that tower. To him it seemed a legitimate excuse for his actions, but she did not look as if she agreed. "It was _his_ home, you heartless bastard. _You_ were in the wrong fucking the whore queen in that tower where you could be discovered at any time. Don't blame an innocent boy for the consequences of your depravity."

"This conversation suddenly begins to bore me" he replied with a slight yawn. He was tired of hearing all her reasons for why she despised him so. They were no different from any one else's, and he did not need to hear her chiding him anymore for his lack of character. It had begun to grate on his nerves.

She shook her head before muttering something probably most uncomplimentary under her breath, but she did not address him again. After a few more minutes, she had finally managed to hack a good portion of hair off his head, and he felt much better with the weight of all the filthy growth now gone. She started towards his beard then, but he waved her off. It might be best to keep the beard to avoid anyone they encountered on the road discovering his identity. It appeared that she agreed with his plan as she then started to move back to the middle of the boat once again before stopping abruptly. Jaime looked to see what had halted her movements and noticed her staring over his shoulder with an apprehensive gaze. Just down the river about half a league behind them was a large vessel moving swiftly down the river. Looking closely he could see it flying the Tully colors. Most likely it was a vessel sent to recapture the Kingslayer. Jaime looked back at Amarah's face and wondered she had some sort of plan to get them out of this. If not, he would be back warming a cell in Riverrun's dungeons before nightfall.

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_Cliffhanger! Well if you've read the books this scene is in there so it's not so much of a cliffhanger, but I liked this part so much I wanted to work it into my story. Next chapter we find out what happens. Let me know what you think! Any reviews are much appreciated! Thanks for reading:)_


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for your patience! I'm churning 'em out as fast as I can. Sorry this one took a bit longer. I'm gonna try to get a bit ahead so I can update the next few chapters more quickly than I have these last three. Anyway, enjoy!_

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Amarah inwardly cursed Jaime Lannister with every stroke through the chilly waters. How in the seven hells had she gotten herself into this mess? Just yesterday she had been warm and content within Riverrun's walls waiting for Robb's return from battle. Only to find herself now half-naked and freezing in this dirty river trying to keep her cousin's men from recapturing the man who she never should have helped release in the first place. Again, how did she do this to herself?

After she had spotted the boat chasing them down the river, she had briefly contemplated letting them retake the man who was quickly proving to be one huge, complete pain in her arse, but she had reluctantly decided against it. Since she had already made the promise to Catelyn to return the bastard to Tyrion in order to release Sansa, she had to honor her word though every fiber of her being might rebel against the thought. As Amarah gritted her teeth against the cold water that slapped her in the face with each stroke, she pictured Sansa's delicate face. She would see this through for Sansa. Otherwise, she might never escape the guilt that haunted her. So she pressed on.

Once Brienne had spotted the boat, she had surveyed the area surrounding them for any possible escape route when her eyes had landed on sloped hill just around the next bend in the river. Atop the hill were several large boulders which looked as if they might roll down into the waterway at any moment. Brienne had immediately volunteered to swim to the bank in order to roll the boulders down onto the ship that chased them. Amarah noticed the eager look in Jaime's eyes at this suggestion before realizing that he hoped Brienne would not be able to board their vessel once again after enacting her plan, thereby leaving Amarah alone with him. While she might be a match for Jaime's wit, Amarah was quite willing to admit that she was in no way able to compete with him physically. Without Brienne, Amarah had no hope of controlling him even with iron clapped about his wrists. So she had volunteered instead.

Brienne had adamantly been against it, but Amarah dismissed the lady knight's concerns by explaining her reasons. After hearing Amarah's logic, Brienne had haltingly agreed to the plan, but she still looked rather uneasy about it. Amarah was not entirely certain herself of her ability to carry off Brienne's scheme to escape the pursuing vessel, but she at least needed to try. So without taking the time to think on it further, Amarah had instantly stripped down to only her shift before diving headfirst over the side of their boat into the muddy water. The freezing temperature had been an unpleasant shock to her system when she first hit the water, and it took a few moments for her to brace herself against the discomfort in order to begin moving towards the shore.

This was where she found herself now. The water was damn cold, but she had finally managed to get close enough to shore to feel her bare toes sink into the muddy earth. Forcing her frozen legs to walk on the squishy surface beneath her feet, Amarah slowly made her way up onto the grassy bank. Once she was finally free from the water, Amarah valiantly held off a case of violent shudders that threatened to wrack her chilly frame and began vigorously rubbing her arms to restore the feeling in them. After a few moments of this, she began to trek up the hill that Brienne had spotted earlier. She stumbled a few times due to the numbness in her legs, but was able to reach the top just as the small boat containing Jaime and Brienne passed by. She looked a bit farther down the river to see that the larger boat was almost on them. If she didn't act fast, then they would soon be on top of Brienne's much smaller vessel and Jaime would be on his way back to the dungeons.

Taking a moment to brace her hands against the cool stone surface of the boulder, she waited for just the right moment to send it hurtling down the hill. She was not very strong but the weight of the boulder would do most of the work. All it needed was a little push from her to get started. Once the boat was a few feet from the spot in front of the hill, she gave a mighty push to the rock and watched it slowly build speed as it hurtled down the hill. Just for good measure, she sent off another boulder in the same direction that had almost the same size as the first one. If she had misjudged the distance the first time, this extra effort would ensure that at least one rock would make contact with the boat.

To her delight, both boulders smashed into the boat. One smashing in the hull of the ship while the other tore a hole almost all the way through the middle. Just as she was about to let out a very unladylike whoop of delight at her success, she noticed that Jaime and Brienne's boat had moved much farther down the river. She would have to run along the bank for quite a ways to even have a hope of catching up with then. With the way she shook like a falling leaf in the breeze, she knew there was no possibility of being able to catch them on foot. Calmly fighting down the anxiousness that realization caused her, Amarah began to look for another means of escape. While scanning her surroundings, she noticed that there was another bend in the river a few hundred feed in front of Brienne's vessel. If she could cut through the land quickly enough, she would be able to meet the boat on the other side.

She took one last glance at the large boat before her that was rapidly filling with water to ensure those men would be no trouble before taking off in a quick run to reach Brienne in time. She had kicked off her shoes along with her dress before diving into the water and her feet were cut by numerous rocks and thorny vines as she ran barefooted over the land, but she refused to give up. Ignoring the pain, she pressed on and her persistence was rewarded as she finally reached the bank on the opposite side of the land that jutted into the river.

"My lady" she heard Brienne call out to her. "You must hurry!"

Amarah held back the retort that sprung to her lips at Brienne's prodding as she was all too aware that speed was of the utmost necessity. She looked at the swirling ripples of water and gritted her chattering teeth in anticipation of the cold. Holding her breath, she swiftly dove back into the swirling depths before she would have time to rethink the action. Once her body hit the water she was struck once again by the sudden cold. Gods, it was almost worst than the first time. However, the frigid wet motivated her to reach Brienne and Jaime with as much speed as possible. Churning up the water behind her with powerful kicks, Amarah swam as quickly as possible to the boat that was floating closer towards her. It was with great relief when she felt Brienne reach over the side and pull her back in as if she weighed no more than a doll.

"Well done, my lady" Brienne congratulated her with a hearty thump on the back.

Amarah was not able to respond at first as she simply tried to take in gulps of air through the steady chatter of her teeth. Her thin shift was not much protection from the balmy breeze that blew against her wet skin chilling her to the bone. As she sat there fighting the cold she caught a glimpse of Jaime Lannister who still sat in the same place she had left him. He seemed to be staring at her oddly and as she looked down at her chest she could see why. Her underclothing had been struck transparent by the water and her breasts were now on full display with her cold nipples drawn into tight sharp points capturing his attention. Despite her chilled state, Amarah felt an embarrassed blush start from her toes traveling all the way to her hairline as she hastily folded her arms over the revealing sight. Once he noticed her action, Jaime at least had the good grace to look embarrassed before hastily withdrawing his gaze.

"M-my c-c-cloak" she finally managed to request Brienne over the chatter of her teeth.

Brienne promptly tossed the woolen garment to her, and Amarah immediately swathed herself in its welcoming warmth. Giving a small hum of pleasure at the dry wool on her skin, Amarah settled back with the covering drawn tightly about her shoulders. Jaime's gaze had returned to her by now, but instead of finding the embarrassment of a few moments ago, she saw a gleam of respect in his eyes.

"Well done, Princess" he said echoing Brienne's words.

It was on the tip of her tongue to respond with a scathing comment, but something caused her to hold the urge in check. Maybe it was the rare look of sincerity in his eyes or maybe she was just too cold too care. Whatever the reason she simply gave him a nod of acknowledgement before sinking back once again into the warmth of her cloak and turning her head to watch passing scenery. No one spoke again for some time.

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Amarah decided they would stop for the night several hours after the sun had sunk over the horizon. Both her companions seemed as weary as she and no one debated the decision. Brienne rowed the boat over to the rocky shore and they hit the sand with a dull thud. Amarah stood gingerly taking a moment to work out the kinks in her back she had acquired while sitting in such a confined space for a long period of time. Once she felt sufficiently stretched out, she took Brienne's offered hand to climb onto the pebbled shore.

"What will we do with him?" Brienne questioned as she hauled Jaime out of the boat. He looked a bit disgruntled to be handled in such a way, but he refrained from saying anything.

Amarah surveyed his tired looking face before replying. Though Jaime hid it well, she could see he was a weary to the bone as she. Despite his tired state though, they would still need to keep a close eye on him. "We'll tie him to a tree I suppose" Amarah answered with an unconcerned shrug of her shoulders before turning to walk up the bank to the grassy surface beyond.

They didn't move too far away from the bank in case the need for immediate escape arose unexpectedly. There was a rather sturdy tree near where they landed which Brienne immediately lashed Kingslayer too. His unkind comments earlier in the day had come back to haunt him as Brienne took the opportunity to tie the ropes much tighter than was necessary. Amarah bit back a smile at his grunt of discomfort as she finished tying the ropes.

"I should survey the area, my lady" Brienne informed her once she was done tying up Jaime.

Amarah nodded in immediate agreement. "Of course. I'll keep a watch on him. I doubt he'll be too much trouble in his current state."

Jaime shot her an annoyed look over that observation but still said nothing. Brienne gave a short bow of acknowledgement before taking off through the trees to patrol the land. Not knowing how long she would take to return, Amarah settled down next to Jaime who still sported a look of discomfort at his bonds. Feeling an unexpected tug of sympathy for him, Amarah leaned over to loosen the ropes enough to restore the circulation to his limbs. It was not enough to let him escape, but it would give him a bit less discomfort.

"My deepest appreciation, Princess" he said in that mocking tone once she removed her hands.

"Anything for you, Ser Jaime" she cooed prettily in the voice she had heard so many ladies at court use when trying to gain his attention.

She saw a genuine smile of amusement grace his lips at her sarcastic reply. "I never knew I affected you so."

"You did once" she replied without thinking. Realizing what she had just said, she instantly clamped her lips together and stared resolutely ahead of her without continuing that train of thought. Jaime however was unprepared to let that topic go unexplored.

"I was under the impression you always hated me." His tone of voice sounded a bit strange as he tried to question her. She turned once again to regard him with a hard gaze but she could not read the foreign expression in his eyes.

Giving an inward sigh of resignation, she decided to answer his question. After all, what did it matter now if he knew? "When I first came to the capital I thought you were some sort of…golden god" she finished after finding the right words. She followed that revelation with a short laugh at her own naiveté in those days. "The handsome knight of the king's guard. I was too shy to speak to you in those days so I just admired you from a distance. Then one day, or one night rather, I realized what a fool I was."

She said nothing else after this, but Jaime's curiosity had been aroused. "And what happened to open your eyes to the man I truly am?"

"I saw you with her" Amarah answered in a quiet voice not bothering to elaborate on the "her" she referred to. They both knew.

Jaime looked rather surprised by this revelation. "When was this?"

"My second year in the capital. I couldn't sleep and I was walking the halls when I heard you coming so I hid. That's when I saw what you did. Who you really were. I've never had much fond regard for you since."

"Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe you knew of this all along without telling your father to have both our heads mounted on a spike."

"I almost did" she admitted. "But I didn't want the throne, so I decided Joffrey could have it for all I cared. Of course if I had known what a shit ruler he would prove to be I might have said something, but I only wanted peace. So I held out hope my father might eventually marry me to some kind nobleman and I could leave the city to live with him and have his children. Of course those hopes all came to naught."

Jaime said nothing for a few moments as he mulled over all she had just said. As they sat in companionable silence, Amarah realized that this was the first conversation they had ever had without taking the opportunity to fling insults at one another. "You're full of surprises, Princess" Jaime finally replied interrupting her train of thought.

"If only I could say the same for you" she sighed deciding this conversation was becoming too much personal between the two of them. Turning her back to him she recommended that he get some sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. He made no reply, but eventually she heard him shift around trying to find a more comfortable position as he settled in for the night.

Before he drifted into unconsciousness she thought she heard him mutter something under his breath. "Full of surprises."

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_Please review! Thank you for reading!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **_Here's my next chapter! It's a bit shorter but I had a lot of fun with the dialogue in this one. Hopefully I can have the next one up by tomorrow. Read on!_

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_ It was so cold here. Amarah tried to warm herself by drawing her cloak more tightly around her, but the coldness never left. Never abated. As she walked through the dark, shadowed passageway she heard the faint echo of her footsteps bounce off the stone walls and ceiling. Gods, it was so quiet and lifeless here. She was so lonely._

_ "Amarah." She quickly whipped around at the sound of his voice. "Amarah, How could you betray me? I loved you!"_

_ "I didn't want to" she pleaded with him for understanding. "I had to do it for Sansa." But Robb did not understand. He only continued to look at her with that betrayed, hurt expression. It tore her heart in two when he looked at her like that. He had never looked at her with any thing but affection, and to see what he thought of her now wounded her soul. The one person she loved more than life itself no longer loved her. And, gods, it hurt like nothing she had ever imagined._

_ She began to run towards him then. Maybe if she showed him how much she still cared he would somehow learn to forgive her. If she could just hold him in her arms once again, he would know her love was true despite what she had done. But the harder she ran, the farther he moved from her reach. Refusing to give up, she tried to run even faster to catch him. While her lungs pumped the cold air in and out of her body like forging bellows as she ran, she saw his face change, morph into some sort of wild wolf-like creature. Then his chest began to gush a red river of blood that ran down his body in a great crimson torrent as he crumpled to his knees. No! What was happening to him? She had to reach him, to help him. But she couldn't get to him no matter how she tried. He was always too far. Much too far._

_ "Robb!" she screamed as the horrific figure drifted farther and farther away. "Robb, please! Please!"_

Amarah awoke with a start. She opened her eyes to see Brienne's face above her, the other woman's brow furrowed by worry. Amarah tried to speak but her throat felt raw and painful. She realized that it had all been a dream, but her screams must have been real enough. She still shook with terror when she recalled what she had seen.

"My lady" Brienne began before helping her to slowly sit up from her sprawled position across the leaf-covered ground. "Are you well?"

"Of course" she lied before irritably brushing away Brienne's touch. The horrifying dream had not left her in a pleasant mood. Her insides were still churning with uneasiness, but she tried to act as if nothing was amiss. From the look on Brienne's face she would not be fooled so easily.

"You were screaming in your sleep, my lady" she whispered almost urgently as if trying to make Amarah understand how terrified she had sounded.

If her screams had sounded anything like the ones in her dream, she did not doubt why Brienne looked so uneasy. The sheer terror that had overtaken her at the sight of Robb's disfigurement would not leave in a hurry. Even now she tried to blot the memory from her mind's eye but could not erase it entirely. She could still see the rushing river of blood that seemed to be everywhere. Rich red and crimson. There was so much, and she was too far away to help. It had left her feeling helpless and horrified all at once.

"It was a dream" she finally confessed to Brienne. "Just a dream." She was trying to convince _herself_ with that last statement more than Brienne. It had all been a dream, but why in the seven hells did it feel so real?

"We must keep moving, my lady, if you are well enough." Brienne said snapping her back to the present moment.

Amarah gave an absent nod of her head. "Of course."

Brienne moved away from her then to untie Jaime from his tree. Amarah was still in a daze over everything that was currently running through her mind. She paid no mind to Brienne and Jaime's actions as she slowly stood and walked to the river's edge. As she watched the sun rise over the water scattering jewels of light across its surface, she felt a dark weight settle over her. Since helping Jaime escape to King's Landing she had not taken the time to face the consequences of her actions. She knew it had been a dream but it felt so real. Robb's hurt and betrayal were her fault. Even if she was able to accomplish this mad scheme to return Jaime to his family, what then? She hated the thought of facing Robb after what she had done. She didn't want to know what he thought of her now. It was one thing to live without him when she knew that he loved her as she did him. At least her aching heart could find some small comfort in that, but the idea of living in a world without his love left her feeling empty and aching.

"You say the most interesting things in your sleep, Princess." Amarah jumped slightly at Jaime Lannister's voice. She had been so lost in her own thoughts, she had not heard him come up behind her. She shot him a fierce scowl as she was in no mood to play his games. Whatever brief camaraderie they had shared the night before was now gone.

"Leave me alone, Kingslayer."

Jaime ignored the warning and continued on down that dangerous path. "No, really. I find it most fascinating the things women say in their sleep. It reveals so many buried desires. Who ever knew you had so much affection for your cousin, the boy king Robb Stark?"

Amarah could feel a red haze of fury coloring her vision as she looked at his smirking face. "I'm warning you, Kingslayer. Leave me be."

"How does it feel?" he pressed on seemingly oblivious to her gathering fury. "Do you ever think about him holding that Frey girl in his arms? Fucking her as you wish he would fuck you. Loving her into the long lonely hours of the night. Does it make you angry to think he would throw your love away just to gain a bridge? Not a very flattering trade if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you" Amarah responded, her jaw tightening in barely restrained anger. She knew why he was doing this. He loved provoking her. If he didn't tread carefully then he would get more than he had bargained for.

"Did you know that Cersei never fucked your father after that first night when he shouted your mother's name into her ear as he came? Yes, she told me about it. Then she came running back to me. Her loving brother to take away her worries. We fucked on the bed right next to the slobbering drunk of a king while he was passed out on the floor."

She had managed to get her anger more under control the longer he went on and swung towards him with a hard gaze. "You think I don't know you fucked her while my father went about fucking his whores? I don't care anymore than he did."

"Everyone thinks I'm so dishonorable" he continued ignoring her last comment.

She couldn't resist interrupting him once more. "Whatever would give people such a ludicrous notion?"

He brushed off her sarcasm before continuing. "Do you know that I've never broken my vows to my sister? I've never been with another woman. It's a pity poor Robb Stark can't say the same to you."

Amarah's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Now he had gone too far, and she wouldn't let him get away with it this time. She may not have been able to bash him over the head with a rock as she wished, but there were other ways to wound. "And it's a pity Cersei can't say the same to you."

"One passionless night with your pathetic excuse for a father doesn't make much difference."

"I'm not talking about my father" she replied with a clever smile. "Can you really believe Cersei's managed to keep her knees together since your departure from King's Landing all those months ago? Your _loving_ sister has probably had more men through her legs than the doorway of Littlefinger's brothel."

"You're lying" he replied quickly, but the corners of his mouth had tightened almost imperceptibly and his green eyes were darkening in anger. Amarah felt no sympathy for him. He could say whatever _he_ liked to stir her into a fit of rage but couldn't take the same treatment in return.

"You think so? Ask her yourself once you return. _If_ you return. That's the wonderful thing about family. We can always tell when they're lying. Or better yet, you can ask Tyrion. He's the reason I discovered it in the first place. When you do finally accept the truth of Cersei's rather active life within the bedchamber at least you can find comfort in the fact that she took your half-wit cousin Lancel as one of her lovers. He might not have your strength or wit but I hear he somewhat resembles you in the days your youth. At least if she had to find a replacement for your cock she managed to keep it in the family. So you must hold some sort of place in her heart no matter how small. The whole kingdom knows how much the queen loves her family."

"I still don't believe you, Princess" he answered. She could see the effort he was exerting to keep his anger in check and it made her want to burst out laughing with amusement. It served him right to feel this way after the horrible things he had said to her. He might claim he didn't believe her but the seeds of doubt had been planted.

"Believe whatever you like. It matters not to me" she answered with a sweet smile just to goad him further. She had said all she needed to on the subject. Watching the doubt gnaw away at him would be reward enough. She didn't intend to press him further than necessary.

After they had both fallen silent, Brienne appeared beside them. She must have been gathering supplies together while Amarah and Jaime jabbed at each other with their sharp words. "Into the boat, Kingslayer" Brienne prodded him loudly. Once Brienne had all but shoved Jaime into the boat she turned back to look at Amarah.

"Feeling any better, my lady?" she asked before bundling Amarah into the boat as well.

Amarah gave her a pleasant smile in return. Shifting all of her frustration and doubt onto Jaime Lannister had left her in a far better mood than before. "Yes, Brienne, I am feeling _much_ better after all."

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_Please review! Just so ya'll know, good reviews always motivate me to write faster so you can see what happens next. Just sayin'… Thanks for reading!_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **_ Thanks for the great reviews! Here's the next chapter as promised. I've always toyed with the idea of doing a drinking scene with Amarah and Jaime so that's what I worked into this chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!_

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They had been traveling for almost three whole days without incident. After they had traveled as far as possible on the river, Amarah had decided they would procure some horses. Since she had a supply golden dragons with her, it was no great hardship finding a set of horses for sale. The difficulty came in avoiding questions about why there were two women traveling alone with a male prisoner. However, Amarah seemed to possess an uncanny ability to talk circles around others, so Jaime was able to remain anonymous. They left the inn where they had secured the needed horses and continued on their way. Jaime would have liked to have the luxury of sleeping in a real bed, but understood why they had to keep moving. He would not have agreed any way with the decision to stay at the inn if it had been made, but Amarah was intelligent enough to decipher that necessity on her own.

Jaime looked at the young princess who rode beside him as they cantered along under the canopy of the woodland trees. The fading sunlight filtered through the overhead branches playing across her in a cheerful, dancing pattern that illuminated her lovely face. Her black hair had been pulled into some sort of haphazard braid that released soft tendrils floating around her head in the slight breeze. Because none of them had experienced a proper washing since this journey began, her beautiful face was streaked in a few places with dirt and grime. He had heard her complaining to Brienne that morning that she was going to bathe in the freezing river whether the wench liked it or not. She was tired of smelling like a horse. Brienne had replied that no one would appreciate the effort except for the horses which she was so determined _not_ to smell like. She had muttered four very choice words at Brienne's response but decided to forgo the bath. Jaime decided it wouldn't have done her much good anyway as the river was probably dirtier than all three of them.

She had not spoken a word to him outside of absolute necessity ever since their heated conversation two days before. She didn't seem particularly angry. In fact, she had seemed almost gleeful at first. Jaime assumed her joy stemmed from the fact that she thought he had given some credence to her lies about his sister. He understood why she had said them. He had said some rather terrible things to her about Robb Stark and she had spoken those lies to shut him up. If that _had_ been her strategy it worked most admirably. Though Jaime didn't believe her, the words still played over and over in his mind covering it with the dark shadow of doubt. _She's probably had more men through her legs than the doorway of Littlefinger's brothel_ he heard Amarah's scornful tone. He had tried to block out the unwelcome image that sprung to mind of Cersei with their little shit cousin Lancel. That _boy_ was no knight and would probably never be. He was weak and Cersei could not abide weakness. Not in herself and not in others. That was why he refused to believe Amarah's lies. At least that was what he tried to convince himself of. He determinedly pushed thoughts of Cersei and her alleged faithlessness from his head. Amarah wanted him to have these doubts, and he would not let her win. He would stay true to his sister as she was to him.

Hours after the sun had sunk over the tree tops, they stopped to rest for the night. The massive creature came over to pull him roughly off of his horse. He still didn't fear the wench but he had been instilled with a mild amount of respect for her after he had seen her dispose of three Stark soldiers two days ago. They had taken a moment to bank the boat on the river when three soldiers had appeared unexpectedly. Jaime had demanded for Amarah to release him from his bonds but she had only treated his pleas with cold silence. Jaime had been ready to blister the girl's ears for her stupidity when Brienne promptly dispatched all three soldiers without batting an eye. Jaime still remembered the smug look Amarah had shot him afterward. He held back his own smile of admiration until both women's gazes were elsewhere. Since then, he had tried to behave a bit more respectably to the wench. Not much of course, but a bit.

Brienne marched him over to a tree as per her usual ritual before tying him up. She and Amarah both took care of putting down the horses for the night. Jaime was not tired enough yet to sleep so he just watched them with a bored expression while they worked. He wondered how long it would be before Amarah discovered what he had placed in her saddlebag. He had only just managed to slip it in before the wench had tossed him atop his horse that morning.

"You need to sleep, Brienne" he heard Amarah instruct her bodyguard. Brienne must have muttered some type of protest that Jaime could not make out. "No, I insist" Amarah continued in that tone of voice that indicated she _would_ get her way. "If anything happens I'll be sure to wake you."

Brienne seemed to finally relent and walked small distance from Amarah and Jaime before squatting down with her back resting against a tree and her rough cloak drawn over her massive shoulders. Her soft snores indicated that she was asleep within moments. Jaime moved his gaze from the sleeping wench to look back where Amarah stood a few feet in front of him still attending to her horse. She seemed to be unaware of his gaze as she softly nuzzled the animal's nose with her delicate hands and whispered soothing words in its ears. Jaime was a bit taken aback by this gentle side of her nature. At times he had wondered if she had any other expressions besides a scowl and mischievous smile. Apparently she did, but those kinder smiles were reserved only for horses.

"What is _this_?" he heard her ask a few moments later. Ah, so she had finally found it. She turned to him with one brow raised in silent query as she held the jug of wine in her hand.

He gave her his most charming smile. "Something I procured from our kind hostess at the inn?"

"And how did you procure it?" she asked with a skeptical frown.

"I can be very persuasive."

"Seven hells!" she muttered in an irritated huff. "You threatened to kill her."

"Not _kill_ her precisely" he hedged. "But she was most accommodating."

Amarah rolled her eyes at his predictability. "And what do you plan to do with it?"

"Well drink it of course" he said. As if there had been any other possibility. "You're welcome to join me, Princess."

Her gaze turned hard at his invitation. "I don't drink wine."

"Not even this once?" he questioned her. He didn't ask the reason for her hesitancy. He didn't have to. If his father had guzzled wine like Robert Baratheon, he would have no fondness for the drink either. "It will be our secret, Princess. You know how good I am at keeping those."

"Is this your idea of being persuasive?" she asked with a faint smile.

He gave a self-deprecating sigh before answering. "Now you see why I must resort to violence to get what I want." She gave an amused laugh at his confession; it was a surprisingly pleasant sound. He had never heard her laugh like that before. She still hesitated though, so he continued to badger her. He wouldn't have bothered, but for some reason he never liked to drink alone. "Come now. What's the harm in having a drink with me? I can't do you any harm like this" he told her raising his tethered hands as evidence. "And besides, there's not actually enough wine in the jug to make us _both _drunk."

She looked at the wine in her hands to test the truth of his statement. It _was_ a rather small jug. Her gaze moved back to him and he could see the surrender there. Giving a bemused shake of her head, Amarah reached into the saddle bag once more to remove the two small, wooden cups he had also managed to swindle that morning from their gracious hostess. Thankfully, she didn't ask what he had done to get those as well. She then came and sat next to him, sinking gently onto the leafy ground. They both remained silent as she poured him some wine before doing the same for herself. He raised his to her in a mock toast before tossing the whole cupful into his mouth and swallowing. It was a bit sour, but he had drunk worse. Amarah just sat staring into her cup without moving to drink it. Finally, she scrunched up her delicate nose in anticipation of the unpleasant taste before taking a sip.

"Ugh, that's vile!" she complained after tasting the brew. Jaime supposed it was rather a required taste, but he didn't mind.

"You'll get used to it" he shrugged off her concerns before holding out his cup for her to refill it.

She obliged his silent request before eying him with a confused look. "I never took you for a man who indulged in wine."

"I never indulge" he defended himself before drinking his serving more slowly this time. "But most men like to drink. It's natural I suppose, but I never drink enough to slow my wits."

"If only my father had felt the same." She had whispered that last remark so quietly Jaime almost didn't hear her. He looked back to see her looking off into the distance with a sad expression on her pretty face. He didn't like seeing her like that. She might drive him to madness sometimes with her penchant for jabbing at him with her sharp words, but he admired her spirit. He much preferred to see her determined than sad.

"He was a great warrior once" Jaime offered to try and rid her face of that mournful expression.

His tactic seemed to work for she looked back at him with a wry smile. "So I have been told. Unfortunately, I have no memory of that man."

"Did you love him?" The question had come out of Jaime's mouth before he realized he was asking it. He didn't know why he had asked it since they never discussed anything of a personal nature if it wasn't for the purpose of insulting the other person, but he was in a strange mood. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was his weary state. But whatever the reason, he wanted her to give him a glimpse of what went on behind that emotionless mask of hers.

She regarded him with an unreadable expression for a few moments before finally replying. "I would wager I loved him as much as you love your father."

It wasn't much of an answer, but it was something. "You think I love my father, Princess?"

She shrugged her delicate shoulders in response. "Perhaps. I don't know you well enough to say. If anyone could love Tywin Lannister though I suspect it would be his own family."

Jaime thought for a moment about his father. He was a cold, calculating man, and he always put his family honor before all else. Even if it was at the expense of his children. Tywin Lannsiter had taught Jaime how to be a man and how to command respect from those around him. Jaime didn't know if he loved him precisely, but he respected him. He knew his father would prefer respect over love. He admitted that last part of his thoughts out loud.

"That does not surprise me" Amarah said thoughtfully. "Your father is the most frightening man I've ever laid eyes on." Jaime didn't think she had come into contact with his father a great number of times since Tywin had spent most of the last nine years at their family seat of Casterly Rock. However, one didn't need to meet Tywin Lannister more than once to receive a lasting impression.

"Yes" Jaime said with a fond smile. "He does inspire a great deal of fear in others. Even smart-mouthed princesses."

She gave him a scowl at that last comment, but she seemed more amused than angry. "I heard it said that he actually smiled on his wedding day. A rare occurrence never to be repeated."

"I've heard that said as well" Jaime answered thinking of his mother's smiling face. She had been a good, kind woman. The only person in the kingdoms who could make a fearsome man like Tywin Lannister smile. "I wasn't there to see it of course. I've never seen my father smile. He demands the respect of his friends and enemies alike. I was always supposed to be like him."

Amarah took another small sip of her wine while she thought over what he had just said. Apparently the taste of the drink agreed more with her now. Her cup was almost empty. "Is that why it bothers you so? The things people whisper behind your back. The disrespect they show to your face."

"You seem to be the only one who constantly says those things to my face."

She ignored his attempt at humor. "You pretend like it doesn't matter to you what people say, but it does."

"And how do you determine that?" he asked with a fierce frown. He didn't like the way she was looking at him almost sympathetically. He decided he preferred her scorn to the faint pity he now saw in her eyes.

She gave a small smile at his dark expression. "Because whenever anyone calls you 'Kingslayer' you get an angry tick in your jaw right there." She reached towards his face and extended two fingers to touch the slight indentation between his jaw and neck. "Kingslayer" she said quickly before he could stop the habitual grind of his teeth at that title which caused the spot under her fingers to twitch ever so slightly.

She didn't remove her hand immediately but gave him a triumphant grin as if she had just won an important point in their constant battle of wits. Well maybe it did bother him the things people said, but only because he didn't deserve their scorn. He had done many wicked things in his life he would readily admit, but he didn't consider killing the mad king to be one of them. But he would be damned before he would defend his actions to anyone, even the girl beside him. So he remained stubbornly silent.

Chuckling softly at his expression, Amarah slowly ran her two fingers down the hard line of his jaw before removing them. As the soft pads of her fingers brushed gently over the bearded stubble of his jaw, he felt his breath catch in his throat. It felt as if his skin was on fire where she touched him. Obviously she felt it as well since she hastily removed her hand. It appeared from her sudden reluctance to meet his gaze, she had not been aware of what she was doing before that unexpected moment of realization between them both. Self-consciously she gestured to the now empty jug in her hands. They had drunk all the wine during their conversation without even realizing it.

"It's empty" she stated the obvious during the awkward silence that ensued. The sudden awareness between them must have been uncomfortable for her as it was for him. Jaime decided it would be a wise course of action in the future to never suggest again that she have a drink with him.

"We should sleep" Amarah spoke again to fill the silence.

Jaime hastily nodded his head in agreement before promptly closing his eyes and reclining his head against the scratchy bark of the tree. He didn't hear Amarah say anything else but caught the sound her rustling around as she tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. She always fidgeted a good deal trying to make herself comfortable before drifting off to sleep. Instantly uncomfortable with that knowledge of her personal habits, Jaime squeezed his eyelids together tightly, willing sleep to come. Finally he felt himself drifting into the welcoming darkness of slumber. As he succumbed to sleep he tried to imagine Cersei's eyes watching him, loving him. But all he could seem to conjure up were a pair of shrewd, gray eyes instead.

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_Thanks for reading! Please review! As always any comments are appreciated:)_


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: **_ Wow! Thanks for all the great reviews! I love writing Amarah and Jaime's story so it's nice to know how much you all love reading it. Sorry for the delay on this one but I took a bit of a break from writing for the holiday. Anyway, thanks for being patient with my tardiness in updating:) I should have the next chapter up more quickly. Read on!_

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Amarah slowly cracked open her heavy eyelids to allow the hazy sunlight to filter through. Giving a groan, she quickly closed them again trying to shut out the offensive glare. Her back felt stiff and there was something scratchy under her cheek. She hated sleeping in the woods as she always woke up feeling confused and disoriented in the mornings. At this point she would be ready to sell her soul to the seven for a bed to sleep in once again. Trying to comfort herself with the thought of a soft, welcoming bed, Amarah opened her eyes once again gradually adjusting them to the light.

Instantly she froze, realizing that she was currently reclining against some_one _rather than some_thing_. Looking down she saw her right hand was sprawled across the person's lap and her head was resting most comfortably on their shoulder. She chanced a cautious glance at the person in question to see if they were still asleep and hadn't noticed her current proximity. To her dismay, she looked right into his mocking green eyes that regarded her with undisguised amusement.

"Good morning, Princess."

Amarah jumped back quickly in startled surprise. She quickly rose to her feet and shot him a fierce scowl while knocking the leaves from her hair and clothes. He just looked back at her with a look of feigned ignorance.

"Why didn't you say something?" she asked in annoyance.

"Well you looked so comfortable I didn't want to disturb you."

She gave an unladylike snort of disbelief at that. "I doubt that."

"Think whatever you like. It matters not to me" he replied with a mocking smile, throwing her earlier words back at her.

Amarah just shot him an irritated frown before noticing Brienne's absence. "Where has Brienne gone to?"

"She went to ready the horses for our departure" Jaime replied.

"Well why didn't you wake me earlier?" Amarah questioned. She could have helped Brienne to get them off to an earlier start.

"Well as I said you looked so…"

"Oh never mind" Amarah interrupted him before stalking off to find Brienne.

As she walked along to the sound of crunching leaves under her feet, the memory of last night came rushing back. He face flamed bright red when she remembered what she had done. Amarah was grateful her back was turned to him so he could not see her expression. She had always prided herself on the fact that she was immune to Jaime Lannister's inhuman beauty because she knew him for what he truly was. But last night something had prompted her to tease him by gently touching his bearded face and softly trailing her fingers across his skin. She had meant to rattle his composure with her behavior as she had done to arrogant men before. However, what she had not counted on was that unexpected moment of searing awareness between them. She didn't want to be aware of Jaime Lannister in that way. He was tainted to her. Tainted by Cersei's corrupting touch and she wanted nothing to do with him. Her sudden awareness of him was as unexpected as it was unwelcome, and she suspected despite his nonchalance regarding the matter, he felt the same. She would just have to do her best to keep him at a distance. And that rule certainly included not sharing wine with him in the late hours of the night.

Shaking off thoughts of Jaime and wine, Amarah found Brienne a short distance away saddling the horses for their ride. Brienne gave her a curious look as she approached before turning her attention back to the task at hand. Amarah joined in to help her without speaking. She had no doubt that Brienne had seen her sprawled across Jaime Lannister, and she wished to avoid discussing that subject.

"How much further to King's Landing would you say?" she questioned the lady knight in search of a neutral topic.

Brienne gave her a knowing look but answered the question. "Several more days, my lady. We'll have to be careful through these woods the rest of the way. I've been told bands of outlaws that roam these parts."

Amarah nodded her head in understanding. "Yes, the Brotherhood Without Banners they call themselves. I wouldn't worry too much about them though. They're said to be loyal to Robb, so I doubt they would do either of us much harm." She looked back at Jaime then who sat still tied to the tree staring into the woods. "I can't say what they would do to Kingslayer though."

"Nothing good, my lady" Brienne answered in a warning tone.

Amarah looked at her with an uneasy expression. She didn't like the idea of her effort on Jaime's behalf going to waste because of some bloodthirsty bandits. They would just have to do their best to keep out of harm's way. She voiced this last sentiment aloud.

Brienne voiced her agreement before both ladies finished saddling the horses. Once they had accomplished their task, Brienne left to untie Jaime and walk him to where the horses stood. As they approached Amarah could hear Jaime teasing Brienne once again. He had held in check the urge to goad her about her looks for the most part since their encounter with the three Stark soldiers a few days ago. But apparently his consideration only extended so far.

"Have you ever noticed a man, wench? Ever had those womanly desires for a man to throw you down and truly make you a woman?"

Brienne maintained her customary silence in the face of his rude behavior. Amarah marveled at her self-control. If she had been in Brienne's position she would probably knock him so hard on that stubborn skull of his that he would not awaken for weeks.

After Brienne shoved Jaime up into the saddle of his horse he turned his cruel gaze on Amarah. "You know all too well what it's like to be a woman. Don't you, Princess? Maybe you can tell her how wonderful it is to have such power over a man."

The friendliness she had seen in him mere hours ago had now vanished and his usual cruelty was in its place. She didn't much care. It wasn't as if sharing a jug of wine made them friends. She would rather deal with his cruelty than the unwelcome attraction she had felt before, but she felt oddly disappointed by his meanness. Without taking the time to analyze that feeling, she shot back at his unkind remarks. Brienne might take his cruel remarks with quiet dignity, but Amarah could never stand for him to have the last word.

"You should know all too well what it's like for a woman to have that power over a man, Kingslayer."

Turning her back on him and whatever reaction her words had provoked, she mounted her own horse without another word. Thankfully, Jaime said nothing else and they began their journey once again. Brienne started her horse into a quick canter, and Amarah and Jaime rode silently behind her both avoiding each other's gazes. They continued on in this manner for most of the morning.

Amarah had been worried when Brienne brought up the possibility that they would encounter outlaws who would possibly do them harm, but as they rode on without incident she felt the worry recede just a bit. She had traveled on the road countless times before without any unpleasant encounters, so she didn't see why this journey should be any different. Besides, she didn't want to entertain the possibilities of what would happen if they did chance across men of a less-than-savory nature. She remembered the attack in Renly's camp and gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of that disgusting creature pawing at her and threatening to rape her. She would rather die than ever endure such abuse again.

"Something the matter, Princess?" Jaime's voice distracted her from the bleak thoughts.

She hadn't been aware of his gaze on her but turned to see him looking at her with a curious expression. Her worries must have been more noticeable than she had originally thought. She knew Jaime was not thrilled at the prospect of encountering trouble along the road with his hands chained as they were. He had given her just a glimpse of that worry when they had encountered those three Stark soldiers on the road before Brienne had slaughtered them.

"I was just thinking how unpleasant it would be to have another man try to rape me" she finally answered him.

She could see from the shocked look on his face that he had not been expecting that answer. "_Another_ man? Tell me. Who would be foolish enough to attack _you_?"

"The man your loving sister sent to kill me. Cersei wanted all of my father's children dead, most certainly including me. The absence of any true Baratheon children would only strengthen Joffrey's claim to the iron throne. The man she sent most likely would have succeeded if not for Brienne."

Jaime looked momentarily confused by her explanation. "_All_ of Robert's children?"

"Yes" she answered grimly. "Apparently your sister is as fond of killing innocent children as you are."

Surprisingly, Jaime did not answer back with some clever remark but took a moment to think on what she said. "Robert had many bastards."

It made her sad to think of how many innocent children had been slaughtered in Cersei's quest for power. Innocent children, which despite their low place in life, shared her blood. "Yes" she agreed sadly. "He did, but no more."

Jaime opened his mouth to say something more but whatever he was about to say was cut off by an arrow slicing through the air by his head. Instantly alert, Jaime's attention snapped to the hills surrounding them. They had left the cover of the trees and were now in the open plain, susceptible to any attackers. Her optimism that they would make it thought this journey unscathed disappeared. As another arrow flew past, Amarah valiantly fought off the panic that threatened to overtake her. She had to stay calm if they expected to find a way out of this.

"Untie me!" Jaime shouted to her over the thundering of their horses' hooves.

She looked to Brienne for help but the lady knight's concentration was elsewhere as she tried to lead them out of the open to escape from their unseen assailants. Amarah didn't know what to do. She hesitated in complying with his request as she fought with indecision, but she never had the time to decide. As she looked back ahead once again she saw another arrow, but this one was flying right at her.

Stunned into paralyzing fear at the sight, Amarah couldn't move. Her mind screamed at her to get out of the way but her terrified muscles refused cooperate. The next thing she knew, Jaime was reaching from his saddle to push her from the horse. He gave her a mighty shove with both of his bound hands, and she felt herself succumb to gravity as she slid out of the saddle. The world around her tilted on its side, and she heard the arrow whizzing past her ear, mere inches from her head. Once she hit the hard earth, her head was instantly filled with a shooting pain before everything went black.

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_What will happen next? Thanks for reading! Please review!_


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **_Oh my gosh! 100 reviews? So cool! Thanks for commenting! I love it:) Since I was mean enough to leave y'all with a cliffhanger I'm updating for you two days in a row! And I should have mentioned this earlier but if you haven't read the books my story does follow them fairly closely. So be warned, there are MASSIVE spoilers for Jaime's storyline in this fic. Seriously, there are pretty big spoilers in here. I just wanted to give a heads up on that so no one would be spoiled who doesn't want to be. Anyway, if that doesn't bother you then read on!_

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Amarah opened her eyes and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The ugly creature that held her looked startled by the noise and promptly dropped her back on the ground. Her head hit the dirt with a hard thunk and she almost passed out again. After looking at the creature's face that bent over her she wondered whether or not it wouldn't be a bad idea to let unconsciousness overtake her. Gods, he was an ugly son of a bitch. His face was nothing pleasant to look at, but the hole where his nose should have been was what drew most of her attention. His look of surprise quickly vanished before being replaced by a thundercloud of anger, and he bent down to grab her once again. He moved his hand as if to hit her, and she braced herself for the imminent blow before his action was interrupted by a harsh order.

"Don't harm her! She's too valuable in this war to do any permanent damage to that pretty face. Any of the three kings would gladly pay a large ransom to have her."

It was a true statement. Joffrey, Stannis, _or_ Robb would pay a hefty sum to have her in their hands once again. She silently said a prayer of thanks to the seven that one of these men possessed the necessary intelligence to see that fact. Amarah looked to the man who had given the order but did not recognize him, and she was certain she would never forget a face such as that. He appeared almost as a corpse with his eyes sunken back into his bald head and blue spidery veins creating small trails across his skin. Though she did not know him, he undoubtedly had recognized her just by sight. Sometimes, being one of the famed beauties of the seven kingdoms had its advantages.

She turned her gaze from the death-like visage back to the man holding her in his tight grip. The angry creature didn't seem to like the order, but he obeyed it and reluctantly lowered the hand he had used to threaten her. Amarah was tempted to give him a superior look at his thwarted attempt but decided against it. She might be outspoken in most circumstances but she wasn't stupid. Whoever these men were, they were not friendly, and she did not mean to antagonize any of them unnecessarily. The ugly creature did not release his hold on her but turned her around so that her back was to him and marched her toward the river where most of the other men in their party stood looking at a pair of figures struggling in the water. As they came closer, Amarah tried valiantly to hide her dismay. Instead of defending themselves against these bandits, Amarah and Jaime had apparently decided to fight each other.

Jaime must have managed to procure the sword from Amarah's horse after pushing her to the ground. The sword now lay shining in the rays of the sun beneath the clear, cool water of the shallow river where he and Brienne stood. Actually, it appeared that Brienne was the one standing while she shoved Jaime's head beneath the bubbling waters shouting at him to yield. Jaime simply laughed at her angry order once his head surfaced again. However, the mirth on his face quickly died when he saw the men that surrounded them. Brienne followed his gaze and all the color drained from her face when she saw that they were hopelessly outmanned. There would be no getting out of this.

"Well met" Jaime shouted at them trying to appear as harmless as possible. "You just interrupted me chastising my wife."

Despite the dire situation, Amarah snorted in amusement at his explanation for the scene they had all just witnessed. Noseless obviously did not share her amusement as he gave her a rough shake to make her be quiet. Brienne caught sight of his action and her face went from hopelessness to fury in the blink of an eye.

"Release her!" Brienne shouted at him reaching for her sword before realizing it now lay in the river beside Jaime's borrowed weapon. Her face showed her frustration as she searched for a different tact. "We have a hundred golden dragons…" she began before Noseless cut her off.

"We'll take those. And I'll be havin' that cunt o' yours as well I think. It can't be as ugly as the rest o' you."

One of the men laughed at his crude remark. "Maybe you just take her in the arse. You wouldn't have to look in her ugly face then."

"No" he rejected the offer. "I wouldn't deprive her the pleasure 'o lookin' at my face. Maybe I'll even let you watch, beauty." He said stroking Amarah's face with his filthy hand. Amarah flinched at his offensive touch as she felt bile rise in her throat at the ugly picture he painted with his disgusting threats.

"Keep your hands off of her!" Brienne ordered him once again as she began to charge the riverbank.

"Brienne, don't!" Amarah shouted at the lady knight in an attempt to save her. With Jaime's hands tied and both him and Brienne without weapons, they had no chance in the seven hells of getting out of this mess. In fact, Brienne would not be in this mess at all if Amarah hadn't asked her to come along on this fool's errand to return Jaime to the capital. She should have known something like this would happen, and now Brienne would pay the price.

Brienne ignored Amarah's command and continued to struggle against the four men who tried to hold her down and beat her into submission. By the time the brief struggle came to an end, Brienne's face was swollen and bleeding, and she walked up onto the shore with a pronounced limp as the four men pushed her along. Jaime was wrestled from the waters as well, but he was wise enough not to put up a struggle. Once he and Brienne joined Amarah on the riverbank, Jaime asked to see who was in command of these men.

The corpse answered that he was their leader. "I have that honor, Ser Jaime. Urswyck I am. Called Urswyck the Faithful."

"Faithful to whom might I ask?" Amarah questioned him in a derisive tone.

The man gave her a condescending smile before replying. "We've had to trade in our lion skins for wolf pelts. The Kingslayer's father lost too many battles, I'm afraid."

"And men say I have shit for honor" Jaime spat drawing the corpse's gaze away from Amarah.

Without a word the corpse gestured to one of his men who promptly hit Jaime in the stomach. When Jaime gave no reaction, two men took the chance to punch him this time until he finally fell to the ground clutching his middle with a pained expression. Amarah appreciated his spirit but wished he had been smart enough to keep his mouth closed. She had finally realized who these men were, the Bloody Mummers. Killers for whoever offered the highest price, and the Lannisters must not have been as appealing employers as they once were by the look on Urswyck's face. He was not afraid of Jaime Lannister or his threats.

"Where is Vargo Hoat?" Amarah asked the man trying to draw his attention away from Jaime who was slowly standing up from his curled up position on the dirt covered ground. Jaime Lannister might not be her favorite person in the world, but he was infinitely better than _this_ band of refuse.

"Lord Hoat is a few hours ride from here" Urswyck responded, his leering gaze traveling up and down her figure in an insulting manner. She held her tongue at his rudeness as she didn't fancy having these brutes beat her as well. "We'll be taking all of you to him."

With this statement, he turned back to the horses and motioned for them to follow. Noseless pushed Amarah along until they reached her black stallion which had miraculously escaped the earlier assault unscathed. Jaime and Brienne's mounts were there as well and they were both ordered to climb into the saddle so they could be off. By this point Noseless had taken the opportunity to roughly grope Amarah's breasts through her dress, and she felt a spark of fury at his presumption to fondle her and smacked his hands away. This time there was no one to stop the blow that came towards her face.

His hand connected with the bruise already forming at her temple from her previous fall, and she almost blacked out again from the force of blinding pain. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to hold back the tears that burned her eyelids once she had absorbed the full shock of his hammering fist. She would not give these monsters the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"I told you not to touch her!" she heard the corpse yell at him, but she was still in too much pain to open her eyes. "If I see you lay a hand on her again I'll be cutting it off to match that nose of yours. Do you hear me?"

She knew the man did not defend her out of a sense of honor. They had clearly not yet decided what king to sell her to, and at least two of them would not appreciate her being returned in anything less than pristine condition. His reasons were selfish ones, but if they kept that brute away from her she would welcome his protection most whole-heartedly. She cautiously opened her eyes again once she was sure no tears would fall and saw the awful creature stalk away to his horse several paces away. She breathed a small sigh of relief at the unexpected reprieve before turning to mount her own horse. She looked to Jaime and Brienne who had already sat atop their horses and were looking at her with wary gazes as if expecting her to faint again.

"Don't look at me as if I'll drop over dead at any moment" she chided them before swinging into her saddle.

"Just be careful, Princess" Jaime returned in a serious tone she rarely heard him use.

She gave him a hard look. "I could say the same to you, _Ser_ Jaime. You should not have antagonized them like that."

"Well at least I'm not in danger of them raping me" he answered back.

"No" she responded fiercely. "Just of them _killing_ you!"

Their glaring match was interrupted by one of the soldiers who approached Brienne with a lecherous look on his face as he took in her battered appearance. He muttered something about them all having fun with her that night when they made camp, and Amarah was surprised to hear Jaime interrupt his sickening remarks.

"Did you all know Lady Brienne comes from Tarth?" he questioned loudly enough for Urswyck to hear. "Someone told me once it was known as the Sapphire Isle. How much do you think her lord father would pay for her safe return?"

The corpse wandered over to them then with a speculative gleam in his eye as he looked up at Brienne. Amarah was grateful that the woman held her tongue in the face of Jaime's lie. His falsehood might be the only thing that would stand between her and a round of brutal rapes by this band of horrid lechers. Urswyck looked at Brienne for a moment contemplating Jaime's words before giving an order for the men to leave off touching her as well for the time being. They would decide what to do with her when they reached Lord Hoat. Once he left to mount his horse and they were alone, Brienne looked at Jaime with a disapproving frown.

"Must you always lie, Kingslayer? The Sapphire Isle is called so because of its blue waters."

Jaime glowered at her in return. "I'm sorry. Might you just repeat that last part a bit louder? I don't think they all heard you."

"Brienne" Amarah hissed at her as the lady knight opened her mouth to speak once again. "Ser Jaime just did you an immense favor to keep them all from raping you like a common tavern wench. Do you think they would spare you if they though you weren't worth your weight in ransom money? I would suggest you accept the rare kindness and stay silent."

Brienne did not look as if she appreciated the gesture as much as Amarah had recommended but she complied with the request to remain silent. Amarh sighed inwardly at Brienne's innocence. She might be able to cleave a man in two with her sword, but Brienne still didn't understand the ways of the world. Honesty was certainly the preference for Amarah, but sometimes lies were necessary in order to survive. It couldn't be helped. Uncle Ned had been honest to a fault and look where it had gotten him. Amarah needed to ensure that Brienne learned the hard lesson that her uncle never had.

Moving her gaze from Brienne to Jaime, Amarah looked at him with a small amount of confusion. She had always told him how selfish and dishonorable he was, but in a small space of time he had gone out of his way to save her life and had also lied to protect Brienne from a brutal rape. Making sure to keep her voice low enough for only him to hear, she leaned over slightly to catch his attention.

"I take it back" she muttered under her breath.

He regarded her with a curious expression. "You take what back?"

"What I said before. You _are_ full of surprises after all."

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By the time they reached Vargo Hoat, dim twilight had settled across the land. Amarah was thankful for the near darkness when her eyes met the sight that greeted them. Hoat's men had attacked a sept and were looting the contents _and_ inhabitants of the structure in the wake of their conquest. One large Dothraki sat on the chest of the Mother gouging out her eyes with a rusty dagger while a skinny, bald man, who must have been the septa, hung from a tree acting as a target for practice. The men shooting at him had rather good aim as two arrows protruded from the empty sockets that used to house the dead man's eyes.

Vargo Hoat sat at a cookfire in the center of the melee as they rode in. He was just as ugly as the rest of his men, tall and thin with a long goatee that dripped with juice and blood from the half-cooked bird he was eating. Amarah had heard stories about the man. He was known for being a particular breed of sadist which was not surprising in the least considering the men under his command. He was revolting, but she saw a shrewdness behind his gaze that was not to be underestimated.

"Ah" he crowed in delight at their arrival. "The Kingthlayer. You are my captifth." He had a large, swollen tongue that cause him to lisp as he spoke. The lisp was also accompanied by a large, unattractive spray of spittle. Amarah tried not to wrinkle her nose in distaste at the sight. She didn't want to give him any reason to notice her, but the effort was for nothing. He noticed her anyway. His delighted gaze went from Jaime to her and he did not bother hiding the blatant lust there.

"My lady" he greeted her with a mock bow. "Your uncle Thtaniss hath been looking all over the theven kingdomths for you. How fortunate I could find you firtht."

"Ser" Brienne spoke up before Amarah could stop her. "You must let us go on to King's Landing unharmed. We have sworn to return Ser Jaime to his brother in an exchange for Lady Amarah's cousin."

Hoat simply waved off Brienne, ignoring her completely. "Thilenth her" he commanded his men before Noseless pulled Brienne off her horse and began to kick her.

"Don't!" Amarah tried to stop them but Hoat only laughed. Amarah was frustrated by her helplessness. She could do nothing but stand there as they beat Brienne to a bloody pulp.

"Be careful not to break any of her bones!" Urswyck said with a malicious laugh. "She'll be worth her weight in sapphires." Amarah thanked the seven that at least Jaime's well-timed lie would spare her knight an excessive beating, but she felt a sickening wave of nausea at each thud of Rorge's foot into Brienne's ribs while she lay on the ground helpless to defend herself.

"Bring them here" Hoat commanded his men.

Both Amarah and Jaime were shoved forward ungraciously to the fire where Hoat and some of his other men sat. As they approached, Amarah remembered Catelyn's words to Jaime that he was a man without honor. It appeared her aunt had been wrong. _These_ were the men who had no honor. As bad as Jaime was, she had never seen him treat a woman as these men had treated her and Brienne. He might say nasty things, but he would never act on them. Partly because he only wanted to fuck his sister, but also because he seemed to possess the most basic sense of honor that these men were completely devoid of. The longer they spent in the company of these bastards, the more appealing Jaime looked by comparison.

Hoat stood and approached Amarah with a gleam in his eye that made her sick. "You don't seem pleathed my lady" Hoat said as he ran his greasy hand down Amarah's exposed neck leaving a trail of blood and grease behind. "Maybe you can apprethiate my charmth after you get to know me better."

Amarah wanted to vomit at his offending touch but held strong. Now would seem the perfect time for a lie of her own. "Do you know what happened to the last man that wanted me to know his charms?" she asked with a cool smile. "My Uncle Stannis cut open his throat without a second thought. If he knew you had tried the same and succeeded, I doubt he would be as friendly."

It wasn't really a lie since Renly had charmed her with his friendly nature during their time together. She just let the goat think that she had been referring to something of a more unsavory nature. She chose to threaten him with Stannis since most of the men in the seven kingdoms had a healthy fear of the eldest Baratheon. It would not be wise to encourage Stannis's anger, and she counted on this fear to save her from Hoat's unwanted attentions.

Before Hoat could respond to that threat, Jaime took the opportunity to address him with an offer. "You were foolish to leave my father's service, Hoat. But you can still correct your ways. My father would pay any sum to have me returned. You know this to be true."

Hoat turned his slithering gaze on to Jaime at these words and assessed him with a wicked gleam in his eye that made Amarah very uneasy. "Oh yeth, Kingthlayer. I will have half the gold of Cathterly Rock. But firtht I have to thend a methage."

To Amarah's horror, Urswyck then shoved Jaime very hard knocking him to the dusty ground. Once he was on his knees, one of the other men yanked on the chain around his wrists to hold his arms stretched out in front of him. All the while Urswyck kept his knee on Jaime's back holding him down. Amarah could tell from the stubborn look in Jaime's eye that he thought this some empty threat meant to scare him into submission, but she did not share his cavalier view of the situation.

"Oh gods" she murmured in a half whisper as the large Dothraki approached the kneeling Kingslayer with a dangerous looking curved sword. Jaime glanced at her for a moment, and whatever he saw in her gaze caused his eyes to loose their confident light from before as he looked back at the man approaching him. This time he had real fear in his eyes. It was something Amarah had never seen before. The Kingslayer afraid. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the awful sight as the Dothraki raised his sword over his head, and it gleamed silver in the last rays of light that fell through the trees. In the end, she wasn't sure whose scream was louder as the blade came down quicker than a flash of lighting. Hers or Jaime's.

* * *

_Sorry if you wanted me to let Jaime keep his hand, but I felt that losing such an important part of who he was started the change in him that made me finally grow to love him as a character. It had to go. But what will Amarah's reaction be to all this? Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!_


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: **_Here's the next chapter. Quick disclaimer on the song lyrics in this chapter. The song is the "Rains of Castamere" and the lyrics are by George R. R. Martin. I thought it would be fitting to use the song in this chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

Jaime never knew such pain existed as this. Even days later after they had seared his stump with a torch, he still felt as if his entire arm were on fire from his hand to his shoulder. The hand that was no longer there still felt as if his fingers were burning over an open flame, raw and bleeding in their grotesque, mangled fashion. As he tried to sleep at night on the cold, hard ground he was haunted by that vision of the sword separating him from everything that made him a man. His sword hand. They had cut off the one thing that made him the soldier her was. The fearsome fighter. Now he was nothing.

Due to the blood loss and pain, he could no longer sit atop a horse by himself so they tied him to the wench. It was her responsibility to wash and clean him when he pissed himself or vomited all over her. He was so famished of thirst he begged them for wine and they thrust a goblet into his hands. After taking a quick swallow he promptly spat the acrid taste out of his mouth. The men started laughing at him as if he was the funniest sight they had ever laid eyes on.

"Don't like it, Kingslayer?" the noseless one asked him. "It's horse piss!"

He had been so thirsty though that he went ahead drank down the whole goblet before promptly throwing it back up while they all laughed. He was beginning to understand how Tyrion must have felt his whole life while people laughed at him for a deformity he could not control. Brienne had been assigned to clean up that mess as well from his beard and clothes, but she did it without complaint.

He had barely seen Amarah since they cut off his hand days before. He knew she was still there but Hoat was keeping his hands on that prize. At night, Jaime and Brienne were lashed together to a tree or on the hard ground while the soldiers took turns kicking the one they thought made the most noise. For days and nights this went on. Four days and nights of unbearable pain and equally unbearable humiliation. On the fifth night Jaime was too weak to care anymore. He didn't want to go on. As he looked at the stars twinkling overhead like shining jewels, he thought it the most beautiful night he had ever seen. A fitting night to die under the stars.

The hazy mist of death that surrounded him was swept away by her voice. "Kingslayer, what in the seven hells are you doing?"

Jaime looked up into Amarah's beautiful, clear gray eyes. He had never seen such a welcome sight. If her feisty expression was any indication, Hoat must have refrained from raping her. She looked down at him now with anger and disappointment in her gaze. He could understand the anger, but the disappointment confused him.

"Escape your captor princess?" he asked her in a slurred voice as if he were drunk.

"Hardly" she answered before he caught sight of Noseless behind her. The ugly man gave her a hard shove till she fell down next to him landing on all fours. Despite the less than dignified position, she maintained her serene expression as she turned over for them to tie her to Jaime and Brienne's tree. Once the brutes were satisfied that they had made the prisoners as uncomfortable as possible, they left, and she turned to him once again.

"I told that goat if he made me sleep next to him one more night I would bite off the closest part of his anatomy I could find. I suppose that it was not a great inducement to make me sleep by him anymore."

Jaime gave a wan smile at her spirit. "That sounds like you, Princess."

"You never answered my question" she said in a voice that reflected more concern now than irritation. "What are you doing?"

"Dying of course" he answered flippantly.

He didn't look back to see her reaction to that statement. She was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "I've called you many things, Jaime Lannister, but a coward was never one of them."

He did glance at her then, and he felt shamed by what he saw reflected in her eyes. No, he had never been called coward before. Not when the city was taken and Aerys commanded all in it to be burned to the ground. He hadn't been a coward then. But what did he have left to live for now? Without his hand, he was only the shell of the man he had been before. Others might have laughed and sneered at him behind his back, but he had the satisfaction of knowing he could cut them all down in a flash if he so chose. Now with his hand separated from his arm and hanging about his neck in a mocking reminder of what the goat had done, he didn't even have _that_ satisfaction.

"What do I have to live for, Princess?" he asked with a self-pitying laugh.

"Revenge." She spoke the word in a harsh, urgent whisper recapturing his attention once again. "What do you think motivates me to make it out of this mess alive? The thought of ripping out that goat's throat and feeding it back to him. Sometimes anger is all you need to endure. The promise of retribution. Don't let them break your spirit."

He turned his weak gaze on her then, really making the effort to look closely this time. She still had anger in her eyes, but they were shadowed by fear and hurt as well. For a moment he forgot about himself and wondered what they had done to her. He hadn't heard her screams so he doubted she would have been raped, but there were other things they could do to her that wouldn't leave visible scars. Just wound her where only _she_ knew the hurt existed.

"Have they hurt you?" he asked almost dreading the answer. He liked Amarah. That was the simple fact. He never would have bothered saving her life if he didn't have some sort of regard for her. Jaime didn't like the thought of these bastards raping and beating her. She might have a strong spirit, but she was delicate physically. A strong blow that might only crack his or Brienne's ribs, could cripple this girl for life.

She gave him a bare glimmer of a smile at his concern. "Other than smacking me around a bit and groping me like a pack of animals, no. I am well enough. But we're not talking about me" she made sure to remind him. "Don't play the coward Jaime. You're still the same man you always were. A hand doesn't make or break you. You _will_ survive this and you _will_ have your revenge, for yourself and for your family."

Her words had begun to sink through his muddle of self-pity as he recognized the truth in them. He would survive this, if only to forge himself a new hand and use it to cut off the goat's head. Cersei and Tyrion's faces came to mind. The family he loved. He had survived the madness of Riverrun's darkness for them. He would endure this as well.

"You've made me see the light, Princess" he whispered to her softly before leaning his back against the tree, too weary to keep his eyes open any longer. As he drifted off into unconsciousness, he heard Amarah humming softly a tune he knew better than any other. It was a song that signified the greatness of the house Lannister. As he fell into a fitful sleep he sang the words inside his head, reminding his weary and broken soul of the importance that he survive. He sang the words over and over to himself like a chant.

_And who are you, the proud lord said,  
__that I must bow so low?  
__Only a cat of a different coat,  
__that's all the truth I know.  
__In a coat of gold or a coat of red,  
__a lion still has claws,  
__And mine are long and sharp, my lord,  
__as long and sharp as yours.  
__And so he spoke, and so he spoke,  
__that lord of Castamere,  
__But now the rains weep o'er his hall,  
__with no one there to hear.  
__Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,  
__and not a soul to hear._

_Yes_ Jaime thought to himself with a grim smile. _I will have my revenge._

* * *

Four days later, they finally saw the towers of Harrenhall. The goat forced all three of his prisoners to walk the last mile before they reached the walls of the keep. He thought it would be amusing to make them walk in on foot. A rope was tied around Jaime's waist and the ends were attached to Brienne and Amarah's wrists while both women were forced to walk on either side of him. Jaime barely had enough strength to walk in between the two of them. Two nights before, he had saved Brienne from a brutal rape by his shout of "Sapphires!", alerting the goat that three of his soldiers were about to harm her. He had been rewarded for the warning by a brutal beating by the three men.

Amarah had not been allowed near him and Brienne after the night she talked him into holding on to his life for revenge. Despite her threats to the goat, he had kept her close to him after that. Jaime supposed he wanted to ensure that none of his men had the pleasure of forcing their attentions on that prime specimen of beauty before he had the opportunity first. Maybe he hoped that his efforts to preserve her virtue would be rewarded by Roose Bolton, the current lord of Harrenhall, by gifting the girl to him. Whatever had happened to Amarah in those four days, he saw no outward sign of excessive abuse like the large bruises and welts that adorned his and Brienne's faces. Her face was shadowed by a few dark bruises where they had hit her as she had told him four nights ago, but those marks would soon fade.

At one point, she moved to help him walk when he stumbled over the uneven ground but one of the mummers roughly yanked her away and backhanded her across the face for her efforts. She didn't approach him again after that, but he heard her chanting something under her breath as each step became harder and harder.

"Anger, revenge, retribution." She whispered the words like a solemn prayer. He wasn't certain if they were meant for him or only herself to hear, but they motivated him all the same to keep going.

Finally, they passed through the gates of the keep. As Jaime looked up, he could see the banner of Roose Bolton flying above the wall with two heads mounted on either side. The Bolton sigil was recognizable to all throughout the kingdom as the image of a flayed man. A promise of what Bolton would do to prisoners that displeased him. It made Jaime wonder what treatment they would receive now that they were being delivered into this lord's care, one whose loyalties were just as mystifying as the man himself.

As they entered the courtyard, Jaime saw the entirety of Lord Bolton's men had turned out to greet them. He noticed many of them giving appreciative glances towards Amarah who stood to his right. Despite the days of travel and captivity, she was still beautiful if not a bit battered. She returned their interested stares with only cold silence and looked right through them as if they were invisible. Once they realized that the princess would not be giving them the favor of her attention, they turned their stares on Jaime. After they noticed him there, different men began shouting their suggestions of how to deal with him. Some yelled for a high ransom to be paid and others for his head.

"He won't be of any use to us dead" Roose Bolton's authoritative tone cut through the myriad of voices. He was a pale, tall man, but his quiet manner was much more intimidating that of the slobbering goat. This man was dangerous. He approached the captive trio with a guarded look in his eye that hid most of his thoughts. Jaime had once thought that no one in the seven kingdoms hid their thoughts as well as Amarah Baratheon. But after seeing Lord Bolton's enigmatic expression, he admitted to himself that he might have been wrong in that respect.

Bolton's gaze first went to Amarah as he regarded her with a hint of a generous smile. "Welcome to my keep, Lady Amarah. My apologies for any ill treatment you might have suffered in the presence of these men."

"Remove these ropes your goat put on us, and I'll be inclined to accept that apology, my lord" she replied in an even tone. Jaime could see her rage simmering just beneath the surface but she was keeping it under control.

Bolton gave her an indulgent smile in return. "Of course, my lady. Remove their bonds!" he commanded his men before two soldiers stepped forward to rid Brienne and Amarah of the rough ropes about their wrists with a quick slash of the knife.

Once the women's hands were free, Bolton turned his attention to Jaime. "It seems you have lost a hand, my lord."

Jaime was too weak and feverish to play the game of politeness and courtesy. "I didn't loose it, Bolton. It's here about my neck as you see."

"This offends me" Bolton answered as if he almost meant it before snapping the cord that held Jaime's dead hand and threw it at the goat. "Take this away."

"I plan to thend it to hith Lord Father" Hoat assured him. "I will demand a hundred thouthand dragons, and each day Lord Lannithter delayth, we will cut off another part of Kingthlayer and thend it to him."

"It would not be wise to make an enemy of Tywin Lannister" Amarah spoke up in Jaime's defense at the goat's plan. "I doubt he would appreciate how his son has been maimed like this, much less if he were to be further harmed."

Bolton looked back at her with a speculative gaze, most likely trying to guess where her loyalties lay. She had Stark blood in her, but she had helped Jaime escape from her cousin's keeping which called her loyalty to the Stark cause into question. "I have no intention of making an enemy of Tywin Lannister" Lord Bolton assured her. "Your uncle's attack on King's Landing was thwarted after he was caught between Lord Tywin and the Imp's army. The Lannisters still hold King's Landing and Stannis has retreated with his tail between his legs."

"What of my sister?" Jaime interjected then wishing to hear news of Cersei. He saw Amarah give an annoyed shake of her head at his inquiry, but he didn't care. He needed to know Cersei was safe.

"She is well enough last I heard" came Bolton's reply, and Jaime gave an internal sigh of relief. "Your brother is safe as well but was disfigured from the battle. Lord Tywin plans to stay in the capital until his grandson, the king, is wed to the daughter of Highgarden."

"Margaery Tyrell?" Amarah questioned him. She looked intrigued by the news but not entirely surprised. Jaime realized that she must have shared an acquaintance with the lady since she was previously married to Renly Baratheon shortly before his death.

"Yes, my lady. The same. They are to be wed soon enough. But no more talk of that now. Walton!" he commanded one of the men in the large crowd. "Escort Lady Amarah and…" he broke off glancing at the wench with a confused look, not knowing her name.

"Lady Brienne, my lord" she informed him.

"Ah, yes, Lady Brienne. See them to their rooms and make them comfortable. Also, see Ser Jaime to the maester's chambers."

He turned to leave after issuing these orders, but Amarah stopped him with a raised voice. "Pardon me, my lord, but I would like to see Ser Jaime settled before I go to my chambers. Surely you wouldn't deny me such a simple request." She finished this last statement with the same seductive smile Jaime had seen her use on other men to get what she wanted. It appeared that Bolton was no less immune to her charms than any other man.

He hesitated for a moment before giving his reply. "Of course, I don't see the harm. See to it" he commanded the soldier Walton before leaving in a swirl of his fur trimmed cloak.

Jaime saw Amarah give Brienne a comforting squeeze to her one uninjured shoulder before murmuring something in her ear. After that, Brienne was led swiftly away while Amarah accompanied Jaime to the maester's chambers. He looked at her with a questioning gaze as they marched along the stone passageways that led to their destination. She returned his gaze with an innocent expression.

"Something the matter?"

"Why do you help me in this way?" he asked her in genuine confusion. "I thought you hated me."

She gave him a wry smile at that. "My opinion of you has risen to greater heights than ever before after the last several days in such horrid company. Besides, you saved my life" she added with a small shrug of her shoulders. "I'm only returning the favor. I want to be sure you're not on death's doorstep before I abandon you to the care of some unknown maester."

Jaime accepted her explanation with a nod of his head. It sounded reasonable enough, and he wasn't averse to having her in his company for a bit longer. Her comforting presence soothed his frazzled nerves a bit, and he felt absurdly safer with her near. As if she could somehow protect him from those that wished him harm.

They eventually came to the maester's chambers below the rookery of the castle and found an old gray-haired man there name Qyburn. He pulled off the linen surrounding Jaime's stump and gave it a grim look.

"Can you help him?" Amarah asked the old maester.

"Yes" he finally answered after inspecting Jaime's arm more closely. "However a few more days…" and he let his voice trail off leaving them to imagine what would have happened after the few more days in question.

"Well never mind that now" Amarah spoke briskly taking charge of the situation. "What do you plan to do?"

The old man thought for a moment before replying. "Well, the safest thing would be to take off the arm entirely."

"No!" Jaime answered before Amarah could say anything. "Just close the stump and sew the skin back together. I'll take my chances."

"But, my lord" the old man argued. "It would be much better if I took off the infected part of the arm. Maybe just up to your elbow…"

"No" Jaime repeated once again. "If you take off my arm then you might as well remove the other one to keep me from strangling you with it."

Amarah took the opportunity to intervene then before Jaime scared the old man into pissing himself. "Just do as he asks, Maester Qyburn. He's rather stubborn when he wants to be, so there's no hope of changing his mind."

"Very well" the man answered, but he didn't look happy with it. "I'll have to cut away the skin then pour boiling wine over it to take out most of the infection. It will be very painful. I can give you some milk of the poppy to help dull the pain."

"No thank you" Jaime replied. He was afraid if he went to sleep during this procedure, he would wake up without an arm.

Amarah gave him a long-suffering look at his unreasonable refusal. "Oh for the love of the seven, don't be such a fool. Take the milk to save yourself some pain. I'll stay the entire time to make sure that the maester leaves that arm of yours in tact" she informed him, correctly interpreting the reason for his stubbornness.

He looked at her with a wary expression without giving an answer right away. He wouldn't put it past her to go ahead and let the old man hack off his arm in repayment of some of the things he had done to her and those she loved in the past. To his surprise, she looked a bit hurt by his reluctance to trust her.

"I never break my word" she told him in a hard voice.

He took another few moments to think it over before finally agreeing. Amarah flashed him an encouraging smile and gave his one good hand a quick squeeze of comfort before going to fetch the milk. He was a bit taken aback by the change in her behavior. A month before, he couldn't have paid her enough gold to say one kind word to him, but here she was helping him when she didn't need to. Saying comforting things and letting him depend on her for what small amount of strength she could offer. It was most confusing to his fevered brain. Almost as if he was seeing an entirely different person.

When Amarah returned, the maester had him lie down on a small bed before they administered the milk. He drank down the liquid in a few gulps before feeling the drowsy effects take hold of him. The maester took out his tools to begin the procedure, and Amarah reached for his left hand. Somewhere through the fog surrounding his brain, he heard her telling him that he could squeeze her hand if the pain became too much to bear. That was the last thing he remembered before falling into a deep sleep.

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_Please review! If I get at least ten reviews on this chapter I will post the next one tomorrow. And trust me, the next chapter is GOOD. Things will get a little bit steamy, both literally and figuratively if you catch my drift:) If I don't get the ten reviews, that's okay. I will still post the next chapter, but it may not be as soon as tomorrow. Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I appreciate it!_


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** _Wow! Thanks for the wonderful reviews! That's definitely more than ten, so here's the next update. I'm really glad you all enjoy the story so much. I've had such fun writing it. Maybe that makes me sadistic since I've really put these characters through the wringer. I don't know… Anyway, there was no way I could write this fic and not include my absolute favorite scene from book three in some way. So here it is with my spin on it! And there's some heat in here to spice things up for ya just a bit:) (Warning: There is some adult content near the end of this chapter. So if that's not your thing, feel free to look away.) Enjoy!_

* * *

Jaime received the summons his fourth day at Harrenhal. He had spent the first three days in the grip of a raging fever that had taken hold of him after the maester had sewed up his stump as he had requested. He didn't remember much from the three days other than the overwhelming pain. The temptation to give into the sickness and end his suffering had been great indeed, but he had managed to hold on.

He remembered hearing Amarah's voice calling to him through the darkness of death that threatened to enclose around him. Instead of saying soft, comforting words, she had been scolding him to stop giving into the pain. He needed to fight it instead. That was how he knew the voice belonged to Amarah. She had never been the type of woman to coddle or murmur soft words to soothe one's troubles, but Jaime didn't mind as he was not the type of man who liked to be pandered to. He suspected that if she had used any other approach, it would not have worked to bring him back from the darkness. Instead she challenged him to overcome it, and Jaime Lannister never shied away from a challenge. He had met the opponent of death head on, and he had defeated it.

On the fourth day, he finally opened his eyes to find the face of the old maester watching over him. The old man informed him that his fever had broken sometime in the night and he was quickly on the mend. Apparently Jaime had a stronger constitution than most. Jaime had asked him what had happened to the little dark-haired princess after he had lost consciousness three days ago. Qyburn told him that Amarah had not left his side once the fever took hold. Bolton's men had tried to convince her to leave, but she would not go until she was satisfied that he would survive. After his fever had broken, the old maester had finally convinced her that it would be safe for her to leave Jaime in his care. The old man had not seen her since.

He had already known from hearing her voice in his sleep that Amarah had been present while he lay in a fit of fever, but Jaime was surprised to see how far her care for him had extended. She had mentioned seeing him settled in the maester's chambers before she retired to her own, but he never expected her to stay with him for so long a time. When he saw her next, he would need to be sure to thank her. It wouldn't be an easy task as words of gratitude never fell from his lips with much ease, but he felt he owed it to her. He wasn't certain he could have endured the past three days if not for her presence by his side.

Jaime spent the remainder of the day recuperating in the maester's chambers, but once the sunlight vanished over the horizon, he felt as if he might go mad if he were not soon permitted to leave the small bed where he had spent the day. He had never enjoyed being idle. It agreed with some noblemen he supposed, but Jaime had always enjoyed being up and about no matter what the task. When the summons came from Roose Bolton that the Kingslayer was to dine with him that night, he did not attempt to refuse. He had no great desire to dine with the man, but it would be a welcome relief to see a sight other than the four stone walls that surrounded him in this small room, even if it was Roose Bolton's face.

Four soldiers had come to the maester's chambers to walk Jaime to the bathing house in order for him to clean himself before the dinner with Bolton. Jaime had not experienced a proper bath since before being taken captive by Robb Stark, so he had no doubt he smelled as wretched as he felt. The bathing house was fashioned after those of the free cities. It was a low-ceiling structure with several large baths full of steaming water that could accommodate at lease seven people at a time. When they arrived to the doors of the bath he found Brienne guarding them with a disgruntled look on her face.

No doubt her discomfort was partly due to the dress she now wore. After seeing her in the hideous, pink concoction, Jaime no longer wondered why she preferred chainmail and boiled leather. The dress was the largest one he had ever seen, but it still didn't fit her massive frame. Her arms were too long for the sleeves and the hem was several inches shorter than her tall legs. Several cruel jibes filled his head at the sight of her, but he decided for once to leave them unsaid. She looked angry enough all ready, and he did not want to add to her fury. He was no match for the wench now with only one hand.

When he moved to go inside, she blocked his progress with one of those long arms. "No one is to enter. My lady is bathing herself and she does not wish to be disturbed."

After the past several days of torture, Jaime's patience was virtually nonexistent. "Well I'm certainly in no position to accost her" he groused shoving his bandaged stump in her face. "So I'm going inside to wash several months' worth of dirt and filth off of my person, and unless you intend to finish the job the goat started, you can kindly get out of the way."

She eyed him warily for a few moments before finally relenting. "Very well, but they stay outside" she said gesturing to the soldiers who escorted him there.

"I had no great desire for their company in any case" he answered dismissively before she finally moved to allow him entrance.

Once Brienne closed the door behind him, Jaime took a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim lighting before spotting Amarah in the nearest tub with steaming water up to her chin. She was scrubbing away at her mass of black, curly hair with a bar of soap when she caught sight of him. She looked a bit startled at first, but when she saw who it was that had invaded her privacy, she relaxed just a bit. He noticed that she sunk a bit further down in the water to keep him from seeing anything, but she made no move to leave.

"I thought I told Brienne I didn't wish to be disturbed" she said with a confused look.

He gave her a wry smile in return. "And when have I ever paid much heed to your wishes or the wenches orders, Princess?"

Her confusion turned to faint amusement at his reply. "Yes, I suppose that is true."

"Not to worry" he assured her as he dropped the towel about his waist and joined her in the tub. He almost moaned in pleasure at the feel of the steaming water warming his skin, but he restrained the impulse. No need to let her misinterpret his pleasure at the welcoming heat of the water for something else. "I'm in no condition to make unwanted advances on you even if I was of a mind to do it. Which I'm not."

"Then why don't you find another bath which I'm not currently occupying?" she asked him with a wary gaze.

She had looked a bit surprised at first when he had casually revealed his nudity to her before sinking into the water. Now a faint blush stained her cheeks that he suspected was more the result of their current states of undress rather than the heat of the enclosed space.

He gave in to the nagging impulse to tease her a bit. "What's the matter, Princess? Does my nakedness make you uneasy?"

"I've already seen you naked" she quickly pointed out. "The maester had to exchange your rags for fresh clothes after you fainted, and he needed my help. I must say the sight was not a pleasant one. You looked almost as bad as Brienne, but she had more bruises. Though you're looking better now than when I left you."

Her words reminded Jaime of the gratitude he owed her. "Thank you for watching over me." He noticed that she looked more surprised by those unexpected words than his sudden appearance moments before. "I don't believe I would have awakened if not for your nagging voice pulling back into the land of the living."

That managed to gain another small smile from her. "You saved my life, so I helped encourage you to fight for yours. There's no need to thank me for it. Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts."

"Nevertheless, I thank you" he repeated. "Those are not words I speak often, so enjoy them and accept the gratitude."

"Then you are welcome, Ser" she said with a theatrical wave of her hand and bowing her head as if in a mock curtsey to a handsome knight. He felt a small smile begin to grow on his face at her antics. The first real smile he had given since the incident with Hoat.

"Do you think we might call a truce between us now, Princess?" he asked her softly after she had gone still once again.

There was a beat of deafening silence as she considered his offer. "A truce between two people requires trust. Tell me. How can I trust you?"

He felt his earlier amusement quickly flee in the face of her question. No one would ever trust the Kingslayer he supposed. He looked down at the stump where his right hand used to reside. The hand he had used to kill the mad king. In one fell swoop the goat had rid him of the source of both his shame and triumph. He would be forever hated for the one selfless act of his life, and it made him angry. Since Amarah was the only one present, his anger went out to her in full force.

"My apologies, Princess" he replied in an acid tone. "How foolish of me to ever suggest you trust the Kingslayer who has shit for honor. I could of course never earn something as valuable as your precious trust."

She looked a bit irritated by his angry response, but kept her voice even when she answered back. "I wasn't making fun" she tried to persuade him of her sincerity. "It was an honest question. Tell my why I should trust you."

Jaime searched her eyes to discover a hint of the sarcasm or mockery that was so often present in her gaze when she looked at him, but he found none of those things there. He only saw honest curiosity reflected in her gray eyes. Her icy walls had somehow miraculously melted in the past few moments giving a true glimpse of the woman inside them. He saw the warm, caring woman who had held his hand while he tossed and turned in a fit of fever, but he also found the strong, courageous girl that had dared him to face death and defeat it. Maybe she did deserve to hear the truth about him. The worst that could happen was she would laugh in his face and denounce him as a liar, but that was no worse than the opinion she already had of him.

Taking a deep breath, he began the tale that he had never told another living soul. He told her of Aeyrs Targaryen's madness and how it grew each day that the rebellion, led her father Robert Baratheon, continued on. Aerys saw traitors everywhere he turned including Jaime's father, so he decided to burn the city down as retribution. His current Hand had asked, pleaded, and then begged for him to reconsider but had been burnt alive for his efforts before Aerys gave the man's chain to his favorite pyromancer. Through all this Jaime was forced to stand and watch it all as he protected his king and his secrets. He was the only member of the king's guard forced to stay with Aerys because the king did not trust his father. When Ned Stark begun traveling towards the capital to capture the throne for Robert's rule, Aerys had decided to put his plan into action. He had given Jaime instructions to carry the orders to his pyromancers to burn the city, but Jaime could protect him no longer. If he kept his vows, the entire city would be burned in their beds because of the whim of a mad king. Jaime had killed the man who witnessed the orders. Lord Rossart was his name.

"Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers" he said in a hollow voice as if reciting the events of a famed battle rather than the circumstances of his infamous betrayal. He went on to tell her about the others privy to the king's plan that he had hunted down to save the city. "Belis offered me gold, and Garigus wept for mercy. Well, a sword's more merciful than fire, but I don't think Garigus much appreciated the kindness I showed him."

After he had finished the tale he looked towards Amarah to see her reaction. He had recited the entire account while looking off into the distance as he recalled the events that he had pushed from his mind for years, choosing not to think about them. Choosing to forget about the night that had made him a traitor in the eyes of the realm. He didn't know why, but it was important that at least one person know the truth about him. For some reason he didn't care to analyze too closely, he wanted it to be her.

Once he had gone silent, Amarah just looked at him with a strange expression he could not interpret. She said nothing but continued to stare at him with a sharp gaze that made him feel as if she could see every secret he had hidden away over the years. He began to grow angry once again in the face of her silence. He had just bared his soul to her, and she had nothing to say. She only stared at him with that queer look in her gray eyes.

"What, Princess?" he sneered. "Nothing at all to say? Come now. Do something. Hit me, kiss me, or curse me, but do _something_."

His words seemed to snap her out of some sort of trance as she gave her head a small shake, and the queer look behind the cool gray of her eyes was replaced by one of faint amusement. Instead of speaking, she rose from her perch on the stone bench at the other end of the bath and began to walk slowly towards him. As she approached he suddenly realized why she had wished to bathe in peace. If any of the other soldiers in this keep saw her as she was now, she would never escape with her virtue in tact.

She glided towards him through the steaming water like some sort of beautiful water sprite. If the water sprite had been naked, of course. Her beautiful, black hair hung down almost to her waist and over her shoulders in long, damp tendrils while her wet, alabaster skin seemed to glow in the dim lights of the bath house. The beautiful skin was marred by a few faint bruises, but those only served as reminders of how delicately she was built. He tried to keep his eyes from her luscious breasts that were framed so perfectly by the silken strands of her hair, but he was only a man after all. He might be faithful to his sister, but he was far from perfect. He comforted himself with the assurance that no man in the seven kingdoms would have been able to avoid looking at such a glorious view of femininity and enjoying it to the fullest extent.

When she finally reached him he managed to wrench his eyes away from those perfect breasts to look at her face. He saw her lips move as she spoke but he didn't hear a word she said. She seemed to have captured him in some erotic spell that held him fast within its clutches, blinding him to everything else around them. After a few moments he was pulled back to reality by the impatient look on her face as if she were waiting on him to say something.

"What was that, Princess?" he finally asked when he understood she wanted him to give some sort of response to whatever she had said when he wasn't listening.

She regarded him with a half-smirk at his befuddled expression. "I said why don't I wash you instead? It seemed a better choice than the other alternatives you gave me."

"Do you think that a wise idea considering…" he trailed off looking down at her arresting display once again.

Her half-smirk turned into a full smile at his hesitancy to accept her offer. "I thought our nakedness didn't bother you. Didn't you say so before?"

_Your teats weren't in my face before_ he thought silently but didn't say the words out loud. Instead he chose another tactic. "I don't need any help washing. You're not my nursemaid after all."

She simply ignored him and leaned past him to grab the rag and soap that rested beyond his shoulder. The action only served to bring certain desirable parts of her even closer to his hungry gaze. He tried to discipline his body not to react to the tempting sight but his cock just ignored the silent order as it sprung to full attention. _This never would have happened if I hadn't gone months without Cersei's touch_ he thought to himself, but even as he formed the words in his mind, he knew they were a lie. If it were any other woman before him now, naked and wet like an offering from the gods, he wouldn't have given them a second glance. It was _this_ girl that affected him as only Cersei before ever had, and for all the gold in the seven kingdoms, he didn't know why.

"You don't need to scowl at me like that" Amarah's chided him, misinterpreting the reason for his dark look. "Whether you like to admit it or not, you can't do this by yourself."

He gave a sigh of resignation, realizing he wouldn't be able to talk her out of this. It was best to get it over with. "Very well, Princess. What would you like me to do?"

She gestured with the soapy rag for him to face the other way. "Turn around."

He obeyed, and she placed the rough rag on his skin scrubbing away the dirt and grime that had accumulated there. She hit one of the more painful welts that the noseless bastard had given him the night he saved Brienne, and he couldn't stop the quick intake of breath that hissed past his teeth at the pain. She must have heard it because she gentled her touch after that, moving the warm rag across his skin in soft, gentle circles. He wasn't certain if her gentle touch was more or less torturous than the one before.

"Is that what you meant the day you told my father the mad king's last words?" she asked him, breaking the silence.

He was taken off guard by the question. When she had said nothing after his tale, he had assumed she wanted to leave the topic unexplored. "Yes, I didn't think you had been listening."

"I was listening" she assured him. "I just didn't understand what you meant till now. Turn back around."

He obeyed the order and moved back to face her once again. She placed her delicate hand on his damp chest and pushed until he felt his knees hit the shallow, stone bench and sat down. Once he had been seated, she proceeded to prop one knee on the bench next to his thigh while keeping the other foot under her as she continued to stand. The position was rather intimate, but he didn't know if she realized what she had done. If she did, her face didn't show it. Amarah just continued to move the rag in slow circles on his chest before moving to scrub his arms and shoulders as well. He didn't have the foresight to stop her hand before it moved down to his thighs that rested between her legs. Once she did, the startled look on her face indicated that she had discovered how much her nearness affected him.

Jaime half expected her to run screaming and shouting all manner of curses at him for his indecency, but she did none of those things. Instead, her surprised look slowly morphed into a soft, playful smile that he had never seen before. Of course she had returned his bawdy jests in the past, but she had never once looked at him with that dangerous gleam in her eye. As if he were a delectable meal that she was about to devour as she relished every bite. Jaime's mind ordered him to move away, to run, but his body wouldn't comply with that request. He could only sit there while she moved closer to him as if stalking her prey. He found it a bit ironic that the stag had become the hunter while the lion played the part of the hunted.

She tossed the rag away behind him and placed her hand back on his chest. Moving it in slow, seductive circles that mirrored her innocent actions from only minutes before, she slowly began sliding it down his slippery chest to the region where all of his blood was now gathered in his loins. He meant to say something to stop her, but he just stared transfixed as her slender hand disappeared beneath the cloudy water towards his hardness that was currently bobbing up in the water between his thighs. When he felt those delicate fingers grasp him, he closed his eyes in involuntary bliss and tried to stifle an unexpected moan of pleasure.

When she began to move her fingers in a firm, grasping motion he could no longer hold back the soft groan that escaped his lips. Amarah continued to work her magic on him while she climbed up onto the stone bench with both knees balancing her on either side of his thighs. His eyes were still closed, but he felt her move forward and place delicate kisses on his jaw, all the while her hand kept moving on him in that hypnotic motion. Her lips worked their way down his face until they found that slight indentation between his jaw and neck that seemed to fascinate her so many days before. It had only been several days since their talk with the wine, but now it seemed another lifetime ago. She licked him then with a gentle swipe of her tongue, and it was almost enough to send him bucking off the bench and burying himself within her. However, he somehow managed to remain still. She had started this little seduction, so he would let her play it out as she intended.

She then continued her trail of soft kisses to his ear where she must have seen the large bruise that one of the mummers had placed there after bashing him in the head with the butt of their sword. She placed a gentle kiss there before quietly whispering something in his ear.

"Jaime." Just one word, but it said everything. She had never called him that before. Sometimes she had called him 'Ser Jaime' or used it with his full name, but she had never said it like that. He knew what she was telling him with that one word. That she believed him. That he was no longer just "Kingslayer" to her.

Her hand had started to move more quickly now, bringing him closer to the edge of pleasure, but he wanted to thank her first in some way. His left hand had lain dormant for this entire exchange between them, but he moved it then to the silky mass of her hair pulling her slightly away from his face and turning his head to angle his lips toward hers. She noticed the motion but regarded him with hesitation before giving into the silent request. Pleasuring him was one thing, but a kiss was something far more intimate. He tried for a moment to think of Cersei's face, but he couldn't even remember a single feature. All of his thoughts were consumed by _her_. He had to taste her just this once, then they would put this madness behind them, and he would be free. He just needed that one taste.

She must have seen the blatant need in his gaze, for all hesitancy left her eyes as she moved toward his lips in a slow, agonizing decent. Through all this, her hand never slowed as she continued to stroke and caress him. She was building him up to a breaking point, but he held the pleasure at bay as he waited for her kiss. The first touch of their lips was soft and hesitant, but it deepened slowly as he forced her to open her mouth to him. He felt a heady pleasure as his tongue licked at her, tasted her. Through the lust-filled haze of his mind, he noticed that she tasted slightly of lemons. An odd taste but he liked it on her. He continued to stroke her tongue with his as she continued to stroke him with her hand. After a few moments more, he couldn't hold out any longer as he finally shattered in her arms.

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_Okay, let me just tell you right now. No, that was not a dream Jaime had. Amarah really just did that. The next chapter is in her POV so you'll just have to wait till then to find out her motivation behind that particular gesture. For those of you who might worry that this was out of character for her, don't sweat it. All will be explained in the next chapter. Please review! As I said before, wonderful comments always make me want to update for you faster:) Thanks again for reading!_


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and alerts and favorites, etc.! Love scenes take me a bit longer to get right cause I tend to focus more on the "choreography" of it if you will, instead of describing every part in explicit detail. So I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. Despite the sweet action though, don't make the mistake in thinking they're in love. Still a lot of obstacles to go through before those feelings will materialize, but I look forward to developing the newfound appreciation they have for each other. But it's not love…yet. I really meant to update yesterday after all your great reviews but I had a minor emergency with my dog:( So sorry it didn't go up as soon as I wanted, but everything's good now so I can post the new chapter today. Enjoy! (Warning: There is a little bit of adult content near the beginning since it reflects on what just occurred between Amarah and Jaime, but from her perspective this time.)_

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She hadn't meant to kiss him. Well, truthfully, she hadn't meant for any of what had just happened to occur at all, but after he had told her the truth about his betrayal she had been overcome by the strangest feeling. As she looked at him, she felt as if the man before her were an entirely different person. It was madness of course, but Amarah couldn't escape the overwhelming feeling that the man sitting there wasn't the same person she had known for nearly half her life. This man was a stranger to her. A man she didn't know or understand. He wasn't the man who had been tainted by the bitch queen's touch or the knight who had mocked her so mercilessly over the years. This Jaime Lannister was unknown to her.

She never would have touched the other Jaime. But this one who had called out to her in his delirium when he heard her scolding him for failing to live, this one who waited for her belief in a story that painted him, not as the monster others believed him to be, but a savior of the realm, this Jaime she wanted to help. This Jaime she wanted to heal. When she had first moved towards him she had only intended to wash him as she had said, but when she felt him, how he had responded to her touch, she couldn't help herself. He had been through so much pain and he had overcome it. She wanted to be the one to give him even the smallest moment of pleasure.

At first, when she began caressing him she half-expected for him to push her away, but he didn't. He just sat there, frozen like a statue, and watched her movements as she slowly seduced him into pleasure. Amarah had never touched a man like that before. She knew Jaime believed her to be some sort of whore who doled out her pleasuring charms to get what she wanted, but it was a lie she had let him believe because she hadn't cared enough to correct him. Despite her lack of experience though, she possessed a basic knowledge of how to give pleasure.

Amarah had once interrupted a handmaid in her palace bedchamber fucking one of the castle's squires. The handmaid had pleaded with her not to punish them, but in return Amarah had demanded that the girl tell her all she knew about the different ways to please a man. Amarah wanted to know what it took to hold such power over men as Cersei did because she had wanted that power too. The girl had told her many things, including how to caress that instrument between a man's legs where he felt the most pleasure. Amarah had never put the knowledge into practice before, but with Jaime sitting before her in that moment, a beautiful, golden temptation, she couldn't resist.

Her movements had been tentative at first, but he didn't seem to care. When she heard his groan of satisfaction, it had given her more confidence as her grip became more sure and quick. She had let his pleasured response act as her guide. After she had pressed the soft kisses to his jaw and whispered her belief of his tale in his ear, he had suddenly decided to give the pleasure as well as receive. She had resisted at first. This was supposed to be about his needs. She didn't want him to hold the power of pleasure over her as well, but when she saw the naked want in his eyes, she had been powerless to refuse him.

Jaime's kiss had been intoxicating. His mouth felt soft and inviting, and she didn't fight him when he pushed his velvety tongue past the barrier of her lips. For a man with such an acid tongue, he had a surprisingly sweet taste. Amarah didn't really know how to kiss as Robb had been the only man she had ever allowed to touch her in such intimate way, but Jaime didn't seem to mind. He simply took what he wanted while she was helpless to resist. His tongue invaded her mouth and imitated the stoking and caressing motion of her hand below. After a few moments of indescribable pleasure, she couldn't resist the temptation to suck on his tongue as if it were a rare treat. It had felt deliciously sinful, and he must have thought so too, for soon after he went rigid in her arms as her touch finally brought him to fulfillment.

She had broken the kiss then to watch his face while he was in the throes of intense pleasure. It was a welcome contradiction to the constant pain that had been imprinted there for the last three days while she watched him lie sick and helpless in that little bed. She much preferred him like this. His handsome face looked much more appealing etched in pure bliss rather than unbearable pain. After he came down from his pleasured high, they sat in quiet stillness save for the sound of his heavy breathing. Amarah gave him a few moments to recover before deciding to break the silence.

"Who shaved you?" she asked softly, trailing her fingers across his face. His jaw had the freshly scraped look of a recent shave. She would have noticed it before had they not been distracted by other things.

Jaime didn't answer at first as the focused light slowly seeped back into his eyes. When he finally comprehended her question, he absently covered her small hand that tickled the skin of his jaw with his much larger one. "The maester did it for me. I think he was afraid I might cut my throat when I attempted to do it myself."

"Well thank the seven for that. Your face is much too handsome to be hacked to pieces with a razor" she said with a humorous smirk before withdrawing her hand and taking the opportunity to slip off his lap.

She noticed he made no attempt to keep her there, but she didn't mind. She wouldn't have stayed had he asked. As pleasing as the moment between them had been, it also felt dangerous to let him know her in such a personal, intimate way. She felt safer putting the comfortable distance between them, and he must have felt the same.

Though Jaime made no effort to pull her back, he regarded her with an unsure expression before speaking. "I don't usually take such pleasure without giving the same favor in return."

That reminder of his amorous activities in the past served to quickly temper her passion as she thought of the woman he shared them with. "Why don't we avoid talking about what you usually do when fucking" she suggested with a tight smile. "I assure you, I'm very well as I am. Also, I think we should be going now in any case. I doubt Roose Bolton likes to be kept waiting."

Jaime didn't look as if he was prepared to let the subject go, but she didn't care. As pleasing as the experience had been for the both of them, she wasn't eager to repeat it, and she didn't wish to discuss it any longer. Turning her back on his disgruntled expression, she climbed out of the bath to fetch her towel. She heard the splash of water as Jaime climbed out as well but didn't turn around as she continued to dry off. Her knees were a bit sore from kneeling over him on the hard stone, but that pain was rather insignificant in comparison to the pain which had caused the many bruises that spotted her skin.

Once she finished drying, she pulled the borrowed dress from the maester over her head, and it slipped easily into place. After wearing roughspun wool for so many days, it felt wonderful to have luscious silk on her skin once again. The dress was in surprisingly good condition despite the fact that a woman had not been present as mistress of Harrenal for some time. Though it smelled a bit musty, there were no holes or tears, and the color of midnight blue suited her dark hair and light complexion rather well.

Once she finished dressing, she turned to look at Jaime who was struggling to get into his clothes. Her heart went out to him at the pained expression on his face. He hadn't called to her for help, but after her dismissive behavior moments before that didn't surprise her. Besides, she knew the need to ask her help for such a basic task probably rankled his valuable sense of pride. Not waiting to ask permission, she approached him quietly and quickly so as not to afford him the chance of once again refusing her help.

"Give them to me" she said reaching out for the woolen breeches he was holding in his hand. He had managed to somehow pull on the roughspun smallclothes, but he seemed hopelessly lost as to the rest of it.

He set his mouth in a stubborn line at first in answer to her demand but finally relented with a disgusted sigh at his ineptitude. She took the proffered breeches without a word and bent down so he could step into them. This action put her face directly in front of the region of his person that had held such fascination for her only minutes ago. She quickly tried to brush the unbidden thought from her mind but still felt her face heat ever so slightly when she recalled how virile and alive he had felt in her hand. When she stood once again, she could see from the amused glint in his eye that he had noticed her discomfort.

"Something wrong, Princess?" he questioned in a voice full of false innocence. It seemed her apparent discomfort had helped to diminish some of his.

She returned his amusement with a haughty expression as if she didn't know to what he was referring. "No. Do you wish to continue teasing me or shall I finish dressing you?"

He gave her a slight scowl at the reminder of his need for her help, but he wouldn't be dissuaded. "Come now, Princess. Do you mean to act as if nothing occurred between us just now?"

"Do you mean to tell me you're no longer in love your sister?" she asked in a hard voice.

The reason she had touched him so intimately before was that she wanted to see him in a moment free of suffering or shame, not because she wanted to take him as a lover. She would never take a man inside herself while his thoughts were of another woman. She would never demean herself in such a way.

His silence at her question was answer enough. She gave a disappointed shake of her head at his reluctance to see the truth about his sister. For such an intelligent man, he was a damn fool when it came to Cersei. She shouldn't have been so disappointed at his foolishness. After all, how could she allow him to know _her_ so intimately when she still loved Robb? Despite the fact that he would never be hers, she still carried him with her in her heart. The moment between her and Jaime had been wonderful, but it couldn't happen again. She could be his friend she supposed, but that was all. It was foolishness to think they could ever be anything more.

"Then we have nothing left to discuss" she said quietly before helping him to finish dressing.

They said nothing else after that. Once Amarah had finished lacing up the leather jerkin the maester had provided for him, she reached to look at the stump on his hand to see if it was still healing properly. When Jaime saw what she intended, he quickly jerked the arm out of her reach. She looked at him in confusion as to why he would deny her the chance to look over his wound, but when she looked into those green eyes, she found the shame at his deformity lurking there.

"I'm a broken man, Princess" told her with ill-concealed bitterness in his voice.

He looked away from her then, but she reached out to grasp his chin and force his gaze back to hers. "If that's the case, then find a way to put yourself back together."

He gave a harsh sounding laugh at her suggestion. "And how would you propose I do that?"

"I don't know" she answered back with a small shrug. "You're an intelligent man though. I'm certain you'll think of a solution."

He didn't say anything in return, but she could see he was considering her words. Perhaps there _was_ some way he could once again become the knight he used to be. He might not have his hand, but he still retained his warrior's spirit. As he stood there thinking over what she said, Amarah suddenly recalled the necessity for haste.

"I do believe Lord Bolton still expects us to join him in the Kingspyre" she reminded him to regain his wandering attention.

Jaime's pensive look turned to one of resignation at her reminder of their dinner with Bolton. "Yes, I suppose he does. After you, Princess" he offered opening the door of the bathhouse to let in the cool night air. "Let's not keep Lord Bolton waiting."

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_Sorry to disappoint if you thought there was gonna be a lot of lovin' from this point on. Jaime and Amarah aren't going to make it that easy on us:) I'm not trying to be mean. I promise! Drawing out the relationship will make for a more satisfying result in the end. You'll see:) Just think of it this way, that spicy little encounter is just a small preview of better things to come:) Let me know what you think! I love hearing from y'all._


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **_Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, and here's another chapter as proof of my thanks:) I had to stick a bit closer to book dialogue in different parts of this one because a lot of information had to be covered, and I even left a good deal of it out to streamline things a bit. Hope you like it!_

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The walk across the yard to where Roose Bolton awaited them was a quiet one. The soldiers who escorted them didn't seem particularly communicative, but Amarah had no desire to engage them in conversation. All of her attention was on Jaime who leaned heavily on her arm as they made their way through the wide courtyard. He had looked better in the dim wet of the bathhouse, but once they stepped outside, the cooler air seemed to have a negative affect on his constitution. He had instantly gone pale but still managed to scowl when one of the soldiers had asked if he needed to be carried into the hall. Jaime's pride would never have allowed such a thing even if he had to crawl across the dirt yard on his hands and knees.

Instead, he opted to take Amarah's arm as they went to meet their captor. She held him up as best she could, but he was a heavy man and she only a slip of a woman. Brienne walked on the other side of him in the case that Amarah's small supply of strength was unable to support him the entire way. It was an awkward journey, but they eventually reached the cold, stone hall where Jaime immediately released her arm. Once the punishing pressure of his weight had been removed, Amarah breathed an internal sigh of relief. She was a bit sore from where he had leaned on her bruises, but she caught him flashing her an apology over any discomfort he may have caused. A bit taken aback by the apologetic look, she realized that she would need to grow accustomed to this Jaime. The other one would never have bothered to apologize for something so slight. She returned his silent apology with a quick nod of acknowledgement before their small trio trudged into the great hall.

The room was large and lined on all sides by huge, gray boulders. It was so large in fact that it appeared to be even greater in size than the massive throne room of the Red Keep. Large fireplaces lined the walls every ten feet or so, but Amarah noticed that none of the fires had been lit, leaving the place in a damp, chilly darkness. Lord Bolton sat at a long table near the center of the room attended by a single cup bearer. He didn't bother to rise as they approached. Amarah noted that he still looked as pale and intimidating as he had when they first arrived four days ago. His black, soulless eyes gleamed like dragon's glass as he assessed their small party with a shrewd gaze.

Amarah gave him a courteous nod of her head in greeting. "Thank you for receiving us, my lord." She felt no real gratitude toward him whatsoever, but the many lessons of polite behavior which had been instilled into her over the years prompted the insincere greeting.

He gave her a half-smile in return that chilled her more than the cool air of the room. "Welcome, my lady. You make the loneliness of this great hall more palatable just by your presence. Please be seated by me."

Amarah took the offered seat while Jaime quickly slid into the one directly across from her. She assumed his haste was to keep Bolton from knowing he was too weak to stand for much longer. It was probably a useless gesture as Bolton was already keenly aware of Jaime's weak state. Brienne chose to sit to Amarah's right, struggling to climb over the wooden bench in that ridiculous dress the maester had chosen for her. The color suited her ill, but there was nothing to be done about it Qyburn had said. It was the largest dress he could find and even that did not fit the large woman very well.

Amarah turned her attention away from Brienne's discomfort to focus on the slippery villain before her. She didn't trust Roose Bolton despite any hospitality he had chosen to give them. He wanted something and this was an end to the means to achieve it. She just didn't know yet what it was he desired, but she had no doubt they would find out soon enough. He might claim to serve Robb Stark, but she had an inkling that his only true loyalty was to himself.

He slowly leaned forward to pluck one the many fruits from a bowl set in front of him. "Do try these" he encouraged them. "They are most sweet, and help move the bowels as well. Lord Vargo took them from an inn before he burnt it."

That last statement was enough to make Amarah decline to take the fruit, and Jaime didn't seem too interested in the offer either. "My bowels move fine, that goat's no lord, and your prunes don't interest me half so much as your intentions." Amarah gave a small smile at his directness. Despite his lack of strength, it was a good sign he was on the mend if he was able to stand up to the leeching lord.

Roose seemed unaffected by his speech though. "I suppose you wonder what I mean to do with the both of you" he said looking back-and-forth between Jaime and Amarah.

"The thought had crossed our minds once or twice" Amarah said with deceptive sweetness. Bolton's look told her he was not fooled by the polite demeanor.

"You're a much sought after pair" he told them in that soft, whispery tone as he reached forward to pluck another of his prized prunes from the bowl. "Stannis Baratheon has been going mad looking of you, my lady. It's been said that he's offered five thousand dragons for your return. Also, it seems your cousin Robb Stark would like you returned to him as well if the legion of men he sent searching for you are any indication, though he's offered no reward, and I have no doubt the Lannisters would pay a tidy sum to have you in their hands as well. You're quite the popular lady it would seem."

He gave Amarah a glimpse of a dismal smile at his assessment of her worth, and she returned it with one of her own. "Rather a valuable pawn, my lord. I'm to be bought and sold like a chicken at market it would seem, and I assume you've already decided who to sell your procured wares to."

Bolton simply turned his gaze to Jaime then, ignoring her implied question about his intention regarding what to do with her. "Ser Jaime here has no less value I would deem. Edmure Tully has offered one thousand dragons to have you once again occupying his dungeons."

Jaime flashed him a cutting smile in response. "My sister would pay ten times that to ensure my safe return."

"Ten thousand dragons is quite a sum" Roose replied as if he were still contemplating which offer to accept.

Amarah was not fooled by his behavior. It was clear that he had already made up his mind what to do but found some sort of sadistic enjoyment out of toying with them. She refused to play his game though, and continued to sit in silence as she awaited his decision on how to deal with them.

At this point in the conversation Amarah looked to Jaime who was currently struggling with his bread. He was trying to hold his bandaged stump on the loaf while attempting to use his fumbling, left hand to tear off a piece to eat it. She almost leaned across the table to do the task for him before catching the impulse. Jaime might accept her help in private, but he would not appreciate her embarrassing him in such a way by weakening him in the eyes of a man he considered his enemy. However, Lord Bolton himself noticed Jaime's struggles before calling one of him men to do the task for him. Amarah could tell by the look on his face that he was in danger of slipping into another bout of self-pity. She ignored him though in favor of tearing away at her own bread and eating it.

"Do you plan to give Harrenhal to Vargo Hoat, Lord Bolton?" Brienne questioned from the other side of Amarah, speaking up for the first time in this exchange.

Bolton gave her an unconcerned look as if she were somehow beneath his notice before answering. "Yes, my lady. It was to be his prize for his service to me. I'm leaving soon in any case for the wedding of Edmure Tully to Lady Roslin Frey. My king demands my presence at the Twins for the blessed event."

Amarah's gaze snapped from the bread before her to the man's cold gaze. "Edmure weds the Frey girl? What of Robb's treaty with Walder that he would wed her?"

"It seems your cousin does not place a high value on keeping his word, my lady. He cannot wed the Frey girl as he has already wed a Westerling of the Crag. Her name is Jeyne I believe."

Amarah felt all the breath sucked from her lungs at his casual announcement of Robb's marriage. However, the news was anything but a trivial tidbit of gossip to her. _How could he do this?_ she wondered as she pictured Robb's handsome, honest face. _He must have loved her greatly to break a valuable treaty in this time of war._ It shouldn't have surprised her how much this hurt, but it did. He had broken his word as a king to marry this woman, and by doing so had irrevocably severed any bond between them. It was one thing to marry another for duty, for even then she would know she still held a place in his heart, but he didn't marry for duty. He had done it because he wanted to. He had wanted someone other than her, and it hurt like nothing she had ever imagined possible. She clenched her hands together until her nails drew small drops of blood from the palm of her hand. Anything to take her mind off the pain that threatened to close around her heart and squeeze it dry. As she sat in stunned silence, she could feel Jaime's gaze on her but couldn't return it. She didn't want him to see her so weak.

"This cannot be true" she dimly heard Brienne try to argue through the ringing in her ears. "King Robb was sworn to wed a Frey, He would never break the faith, he – "

Amarah cut her off with a harsh tone refusing to hear another word about Robb. "Apparently he has. What reason would Lord Bolton have to lie?"

"None, my lady. It is the truth" he said, casually spitting out a prune into his hand before disposing of it and reaching for another one.

"How does Walder Frey take to dining on Trout rather than Wolf?"

This question came from Jaime. Amarah chanced a look at him then after she had disciplined her raging emotions under better control. He was looking at her with a searching gaze, but she refused to let him see her thoughts, resurrecting her walls of protection once again. Once Jaime saw her reluctance to expose her feelings to him, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before looking toward their host, awaiting his reply.

"Trout makes a tasty enough supper" Bolton replied. "But Lord Frey has been forced to break the engagement between Arya Stark and my poor Elmar." He said this last sentence while gesturing to the lone cup bearer who attended them. The boy was no more than fifteen, and he didn't appear to be too disappointed over the broken engagement with Arya.

"Has my cousin been found?" Amarah questioned him, thinking a betrothal rather pointless in any case if the girl in question had gone missing.

He gave her another of his veiled smiles at her inquiry. "Of course. My men are returning her to the north as we speak."

Amarah didn't believe a word he spoke, but kept her skepticism to herself. If Arya had been found she would know about it, and this man was a liar. A good one, but a liar all the same. "What a relief to know that she is under your safe protection" she lied blandly. "If only Sansa could be given the opportunity to return to her home as well."

Bolton shook his head in denial of that wish. "Lady Sansa will not be leaving the capital any time soon. She has been wed to the imp and will likely stay there for some time."

Amarah didn't think she could be any more shocked after news of Robb's marriage, but apparently she had been wrong. She did her best to mask her surprise before looking to Jaime to glimpse his reaction to the news. She could see the same astonishment reflected in his gaze, but he hid it better than she. How odd it was to picture Sansa married to Tyrion. As much as Amarah loved her cousin, the girl would have no appreciation for the man she had married. Sansa had always dreamed of the knights in the songs her septa would sing to her. Tyrion would never be the man to fulfill those fantasies, and Amarah pitied them both. Forced into an unwanted marriage by Tyrion's father to bring the Starks to heel.

"Enough of this talk" Amarah spoke then, tired of dancing to this man's tune any longer. "We've played your little game and eaten your food. Now suppose you tell us whose money will buy the prizes you've been so fortunate as to acquire."

Their host looked her over with a speculative gaze that made her uneasy, but she didn't let it show on her face. She just returned his look with a hard stare. "Ser Jaime, were I to send you back to your father, I assume you would in no way place any blame for your disfigurement on my head."

"Send me to my family and I'll sing your praises like a songbird of how you rescued the son of mighty Tywin Lannister from the sellsword who separated me from my hand." Amarah knew that if Jaime gave Bolton any other response than that, he would be handed back over to the goat without a thought.

Bolton seemed satisfied enough by that reply. "I will trust your word, Ser." That was probably not something Jaime heard very often.

After offering his decision of what to do with Jaime, Bolton turned his gaze back to Amarah. Once she heard him agree to send Jaime back to his father, Amarah surmised that Bolton had made a decision to serve a different lord in this war. So it came as no surprise when he came down with his decision for her. "You will be accompanying Ser Jaime to the capital, my lady. I trust that delivering such a prize as you can gain me some small favor with the lord of Casterly Rock."

Only the gods knew what atrocities awaited Amarah at the hands of Tywin Lannister, but she held to the thin hope that Tyrion would somehow protect her. Despite the changes in Jaime, she in no way expected him to shield her from his father's manipulative nature. She hid all these thoughts, however, as she returned his edict with a benign smile. "As you wish, my lord."

"You cannot give my lady to Twyin Lannister" Brienne injected on her behalf. "We have sworn to return Sansa Stark to her lady mother."

Roose Bolton dismissed Brienne's worries with a curt wave of his hand. "Your lady will go wherever I wish to send her, and I don't recall mentioning you in that order. Ser Jaime and Lady Amarah will go on to the capital escorted by my men, and you will stay here. I cannot deprive Lord Hoat of all his prizes."

Amarah felt terror strike her heart at these words. She could not leave Brienne behind at the mercy of this rabble. "You'll not take her from my side" she whispered fiercely to the pale man beside her.

At the moment of her refusal to cooperate, Bolton's gaze went from flippant dismissal to cold, banked fury in the blink of an eye. He pinned her with his chilling gaze, and she felt the freezing effects of that menacing look all the way to the marrow of her bones. "I wasn't aware I had left that topic open for discussion, Lady Amarah. You go and your knight stays. She had better concern herself less with your affairs and more with sapphires if she knows what's best."

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_Hmmm… what will our girl do now? What will Jaime do for her? Please review! Thanks for reading!_


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **_Thank you as always for your wonderful comments! Y'all are so amazing for all the support you give me. One of my reviewers did have a concern that Robb marrying Jeyne was out of character for how I wrote him, but there is a further explanation of that in this chapter. The marriage didn't go down exactly like it did in the books, and I think it still fits with Robb's character even though he loved Amarah. Just wanted to address that worry if any other readers had it. I do want the elements of my story to be equally believable and enjoyable for you guys. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!_

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They were to leave Harrenhal that very night, but it could not be soon enough for Jaime. He hated this place and its haunting feel as if the very ghosts of dead lords and mistresses silently watched his every move. He noted that Amarah did not seem to share his eagerness to escape, but he hardly found that surprising considering she was escaping this prison only to enter into one of another making. While King's Landing meant freedom for him, it was only a gilded cage for the Baratheon princess.

It also appeared she did not seem too agreeable with the order from Bolton to leave that wench of hers behind. When she first heard the decision regarding Brienne, Jaime feared she might jump across the table and slit the pale lord's throat even as his guards stood around them, but she had remained blessedly silent after her initial outburst. Jaime kept a close eye on her now as they readied the horses for their journey to the capital.

She had managed to say a few words to Brienne before the wench was pulled away by some of Bolton's men to be delivered to the goat. Jaime feared Amarah might try to enact some ill-advised escape attempt with her faithful knight, but she had thankfully done nothing. Now she just waited in the quiet darkness, looking up into the starry, evening sky with a distressed gaze. Jaime didn't fault her for the worry plainly stamped on her lovely face. Whatever their disagreements had been in the past, Jaime felt sorry for the wench. He had no doubt she would die defending her virtue that very night. Moving his gaze away from Amarah, Jaime looked to maester Qyburn who was busy saddling one of horses with different, strange smelling jars. The old maester had been permitted to travel with them to King's Landing in the case that Jaime needed his further care.

Despite Amarah's best efforts earlier to hide her feelings, Jaime knew she had been profoundly affected by the news of Robb Stark's marriage. Jaime had been rather amazed by the tale himself. He had no doubt of Amarah's affection for the boy, and he couldn't imagine Stark would not return the feelings. He recalled that time so many months ago when their royal party had visited Winterfell before Eddard Stark became Hand of the king. He remembered the way the Stark boy's eyes had followed Amarah's every move whenever they were in the same company. It hadn't been enough to spark his interest at the time as he held no interest in the princess, but now that he had been made aware of her affection for the boy, he had no doubt Robb Stark felt the same. That was why Jaime found it difficult to believe the boy king would break his treaty to a powerful family like the Freys for a woman other than Amarah.

Jaime made certain to lower his voice to enough to escape Amarah's hearing before questioning the old maester. "Tell me, Qyburn, what do you know of this marriage of Robb Stark's?"

The old man thought about the question for a moment as if trying to recall the details. "Jeyne Westerling was the bride, I believe. King Robb brought her back to Riverrun after the battles at the Crag. They were married they day they returned. I recall because a raven was sent to Harrenhal with the news of the marriage that very same day. I know nothing else about it."

_They were married the day he discovered Amarah's betrayal_ Jaime thought with a grim frown. "Be sure you don't speak about any of this to the princess" he ordered the maester before turning his attention back to the girl that occupied his thoughts.

Jaime had requested Quyburn's silence on the matter because he saw no reason for Amarah to blame herself for Stark's stupidity. The boy had won many battles against the Lannisters, but he would lose the war all because of a wounded sense of pride and skewed sense of honor. Jaime didn't doubt Stark had married this Jeyne girl after he bedded her. Whether the bedding was before or after he learned of Amarah's role in Jaime's escape, he did not know. He only knew the boy was a fool and would undoubtedly pay the price in this war for his poor decision.

Amarah looked towards him then, and his dark thoughts must have showed on his face because she gave him a concerned frown. He shook his head to let her know nothing was amiss, but she ignored the gesture and began walking towards him. As she came closer, Jaime noticed dark circles under eyes that testified to her lack of sleep while watching over him these four days of their captivity. The sight of her weariness caused him the absurd impulse to hold her in a comforting embrace. He hastily pushed away the unexpected urge just as she came within arms reach.

Jaime regarded her with a lazy smile to hide his thoughts from her penetrating gaze. "Is there something you wished to discuss, Princess?"

"Do you really intend to ride away from here and leave Brienne behind to let that _goat_ defile her?" she asked him in an angry whisper. He was taken a bit unawares by her question as he half-expected the worry on her face to concern him, and he felt an irritating prick of disappointment that it hadn't.

"Of course I intend to leave her" he said brushing off Amarah's concern without a thought. "Why should I risk my life to save that creature?"

Amarah looked appalled at his lack of concern. "You already took a beating to protect her virtue" she reminded him. "Why let such a sacrifice go to waste?"

"It won't work" he informed her with a knowing look.

She regarded him with a seemingly confused expression. "I don't know what you mean."

"You want to convince me it would somehow be in my best interest to help the wench escape this place because I told some lie about sapphires to save her hide, but it won't work. I might take a beating for her or lie for her, but I won't risk my life when it's just been handed back to me."

Amarah looked as if she wanted to scream at him in frustration of his refusal, and Jaime was impressed with her resilience not to give into the urge. _Cersei surely would have._ Where had that thought come from? He quickly gave his head a small shake to clear away the disloyal notion.

"Nevertheless" Amarah continued on heedless of Jaime's thoughts. "_I _cannot abandon her. She saved my life, and I am loyal to her. You cannot ask it of me to simply leave her here with these disgusting lechers."

Jaime's gaze suddenly turned hard at her continued stubbornness. Despite the kindness she had showed him earlier, it was necessary that Amarah understand she was no longer in charge of this little adventure of theirs. Now she answered to him whether she liked it or not, and they would not be risking their lives just because of some perceived debt that she owed the wench. They were leaving this place, and that was final in Jaime's mind.

"I'm not asking you anything, Princess" he replied with a dangerous smile. "You're going to get on that horse and ride away from this keep without that wench of yours in tow. This isn't some polite request. It's an order, and you would do well to remember that _you're_ not giving them anymore."

"I won't do it" she replied with an obstinate set of that pretty, little jaw.

Jaime slowly leaned forward until their noses were almost touching and he could smell the lemony scent of her breath. "Oh, you'll do it" he answered back in a deadly whisper. "You'll do it if I have to bind you hand and foot and ride the entire way to King's Landing with you slung across my shoulder."

After hearing his unyielding warning, the stubborn look in her eyes gradually turned to one of hurt betrayal. "I'll never forgive you for this." She breathed the words so softly he wouldn't have understood them had their faces not been so close together.

He felt a stab of guilt at her mournful expression but hardened his heart against the feeling. "And yet I'll still sleep at night."

Amarah suddenly pulled back from him then as if he had struck her. Jaime tried not to flinch at the hurt expression on her face, but it was damned hard. "I thought you were different somehow" she said with a sad shake of her head as those gray eyes bore into him like they could see the blackest depths of his soul. "But now I see I was wrong. You'll always have shit for honor."

Throwing these bitter words in his face, she swiftly pivoted on her heel and marched back towards her waiting horse without giving him another glance. As he watched her walk away, Jaime burned with the need to stride after her and yank her to him, not letting her free until she took back the cruel words, but he didn't. He just watched her walk away before turning to mount his own horse. It took two men to help him climb into the saddle without the use of his right hand. After a bit of a struggle, they finally managed to get him into the saddle. However, once Jaime was seated on the horse, he realized that he had forgotten about holding the reins. He would never be able to properly direct the horse with only his awkwardly controlled left hand. He felt swamped by a feeling of deficiency at not being able to complete such a task, but was soon pulled from the mire of self-pity by the old maester's voice.

"Do you require my assistance, Ser Jaime?"

Jaime looked down at him while contemplating his reply. He had no great desire to ride all the way to King's Landing with an old man sitting on his lap. Glancing back at Amarah, he saw her furious gaze fastened on him. As indicated by her harsh words moments ago, she was clearly still quite angry with him, and he doubted she would give in to his edict so easily that they leave Brienne here. The girl would probably ride away at the first opportunity to return to the keep to retrieve the wench, most likely getting herself killed in the process. It would be in Jaime's best interest to keep as close an eye on her as possible.

With his decision made, Jaime looked back to the maester's expectant face. "Lady Amarah will ride with me."

Qyburn nodded his head in acknowledgement of the order before going to fetch her. Jaime knew Amarah would not appreciate the decision that she ride with him, but he didn't much care. The only way for him to ensure that she followed his order to leave the keep without Brienne was to keep her within arms reach at all times. She had stung him before with her harsh words about his honor, but he tried to push that from his mind as she walked to him now on the arm of the maester. He couldn't let her command him and manipulate him into doing her bidding.

She approached him without saying a word, and soundlessly accepted his good hand as he reached down to pull her into the saddle. Once she was seated in front of him, she continued to stare straight ahead as if he didn't even exist. Jaime assumed this was some sort of tactic angry women used when they didn't get their way, so he just ignored it and reached around her small waist to grab the reins with his left hand before giving them to her. She readily took them from his waiting hand, but still gave no other acknowledgement that she was aware of his presence. Looking away from the irate female in his lap, Jaime gave his men the signal to move out. At his command, the soldiers began cantering out of the courtyard, but Amarah hesitated for a moment to took up at the keep's many towers where Brienne was being kept prisoner. Jaime noticed the movement of her eyes and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"There's nothing you can do for her, Princess."

She twisted her dark head around to look at him then and he saw disappointment in those beautiful gray eyes rather than the anger he expected. "No" she whispered back softly, "but _you_ could have."

With that, she turned away from him once again before flipping the reins to move their horse in motion along with the rest of the soldiers. Despite her nearness to him, Jaime felt that they had never been more far apart. Her back was rigid and straight. Rather than leaning into him for comfort, she sat forward so as to put as much distance between their bodies as possible. It was such a stark contrast to the beautiful goddess who had straddled his lap mere hours before in the bathhouse as she stroked and kissed him into blinding pleasure. He had never been touched like that by a woman before. Certainly Cersei had paid him similar favors, but her touch had always been hurried and almost violent in her eagerness to bed him. She had never taken the time to hold him gently, to caress away his cares and worries. Her lovemaking had been more of the selfish kind. Thinking more of her own fulfillment than bringing the pleasure to him.

He regretted the unkind thought regarding his sister almost as soon as it had formed, but he couldn't put it from his mind. His fucking with Cersei had always been the way she liked it, hard and fast and rough. Amarah had been a complete contradiction to that. She had been gentle with him, slipping past his defenses and overwhelming him. Her touch hadn't been to arouse her own pleasure but to give him his. It had been the most unselfish thing anyone had ever done for him. She hadn't cared about his reputation as the Kingslayer in that moment. She had only seen him as a man in need of her healing touch. Amarah had shown him more kindness these last four days than any other person in the entirety of his life, and he chose to repay that kindness by refusing her request to rescue her knight from certain death.

As Jaime continued to stare at the back of her curly head, he tried to evade the cloud of guilt that chased him over his refusal to let her take the wench with them. It was madness to even consider such a thing. If they returned to take the goat's only remaining prize, he would surely try to kill them both. With only his left hand remaining, Jaime didn't think he stood much of a chance in fighting off Hoat and his men. He thought himself a fool for even considering such a plan, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. They continued to ride on for the space of almost two hours as Jaime inwardly wrestled with guilt and indecision. When they finally stopped to take a short rest, Amarah moved to get off the horse, but Jaime stopped her by wrapping his good arm around her waist. She turned to look at him in confusion before she saw his resigned expression. Her confusion slowly morphed into expectation as she waited for him to speak.

"It seems I might not sleep so well after all if we leave that wench of yours behind" he spoke softly.

Amarah didn't say anything at first as she took in his words, but once she understood the meaning behind them she gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him squarely on the mouth. Jaime was shocked at first by her unexpected response, but made no move to push her away. This kiss wasn't one of soft, sweet seduction or a carnal mating of tongue and lips. It was just an innocent gesture of blatant appreciation. After she finally pulled away from the kiss, she leaned forward to hug him and whispered her thanks in his ear.

He pushed her away slightly with his hand before regarding her with a wry smile. "Don't thank me yet princess. We have to save the wench without losing our heads to the goat along with my hand."

"I'm certain you'll think of a way" she said confidently. Jaime appreciated her belief in his ability to get Brienne out of that fortress with all limbs still in tact. He couldn't say he shared her optimistic view of the situation.

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_So what happens next? You'll just have to keep reading to find out! Thank you again for reading. Please review!_


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: **_Thank you again for your reviews, guys! I'm so so sorry that this chapter took a while to get up, but I was having a serious case of writer's block with this one:( I didn't want to put up a chapter I didn't like. So I just kept staring at my computer until the words eventually started flowing, and I FINALLY got it finished! So here it is. Enjoy!_

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The ride back to Harrenhal seemed centuries longer than when they departed mere hours ago. With each minute that passed, Amarah couldn't shut out the terrifying images of what horrors the goat must have been inflicting on her faithful knight that very moment. She remembered the solemn vow she had whispered to Brienne just before Bolton's men pulled her away, the promise that she would free her. Now that Jaime had finally agreed to help, Amarah intended to fulfill that promise. Jaime did not favor their chances of success, but Amarah chose to be more optimistic about the possible outcome. She made certain to say a silent prayer to the seven that their rescue attempt would be successful while keeping her worries hidden from Jaime. He seemed to have enough for the both of them.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally arrived back at the keep. Torches lined its massive, stone walls illuminating the darkness surrounding them, and Amarah quickly scanned the structure for any sentries keeping watch. As she squinted through the shadows, she could't see any movement on the walls that would indicate the presence of patrolling soldiers. The lack of soldiers in plain view indicated that Bolton had already departed with his remaining men to the Twins. She looked to Jaime and saw that he had determined the same. His face lost some of its worried strain at the encouraging discovery, but it didn't disappear entirely. There were still Hoat's men left to deal with.

Jaime ordered Qyburn and the soldiers escorting them to stay back in the woods while he and Amarah approached the structure on foot. She understood his reason for caution as they couldn't afford to give Hoat any indication of their return, though the soldiers would have been useful. As they walked silently towards the keep, Jaime wrapped his good arm protectively across Amarah's shoulders keeping her close to him. Her first instinct was to shrug off the familiar touch, but she restrained the impulse as his near proximity gave her a calming sense of safety even as they risked their lives to enter the haunted pit of Harrenhal once more.

"There are two armed guards at the gate" Jaime whispered in her ear as they slowly approached. "The absence of Bolton's men improves our chances of succeeding, but we'll find it difficult even to get inside the keep before finding your wench."

Amarah squinted at him through the dim shadows to find pronounced lines of worry around his eyes and mouth. "You've not changed your mind have you?" she asked cautiously, wanting assurance she still had his support.

She could make out a small shake of his head as the hazy light from the torches glinted off the golden strands of his hair. "No, Princess, I'm still with you. Though I'm not certain of what comfort that is since it does not speak too well of the grip I hold on my sanity. Tell me, do you know how to kill a man? It may be necessary to get past those guards at the gate with only my one hand at our disposal. You have to know how far you are willing to go to save the wench."

Amarah considered his words for a moment as an unwanted image of that beggar boy flashed across her mind. Those cold, lifeless eyes gleaming in the moonlight still haunted her. She tried to shake off the vision, reminding herself that these men were not helpless children forced to commit a crime to survive. They were ruthless killers who tortured and abused others for the mere pleasure of it.

She looked back to Jaime with a determined gaze. "I will do whatever is necessary to free her, and her name is _Brienne_. She doesn't like it when you call her 'wench'."

"Which is precisely why I continue to call her that, _Princess_" Jaime replied with an amused smile despite their dire circumstances.

Amarah didn't miss the distinct emphasis he put on his mocking acknowledgement of her title, but she didn't mind. She found that she was becoming a tad fond of the perverse way he called her 'princess'. The thought would have crossed her mind that he meant it almost as an endearment if she didn't know the man better. However, she ignored his joke and turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

"How do you propose we get past them?"

Jaime furrowed his brow in concentration as he considered the solution to that problem. "If you can manage some type of distraction, I could come up behind them before attacking. The advantage of surprise would certainly increase our chances of dispatching them."

"A distraction" Amarah murmured quietly to herself before she was struck with a clever notion.

She shook off Jaime's heavy arm that still wrapped around her and threw back the edges of her dark cape over her shoulders, baring her front to the cool night air. She still wore the midnight blue dress Qyburn had given her before the dinner with Bolton as she had never been given the opportunity to change into clothes more suitable for travel. The neckline of the dress was low enough to reveal a glimpse of her smooth skin, but it would take more than that to cause a sufficient distraction for Jaime to gain the upper hand. Hastily working her fingers over the fastenings at the front of the dress, she opened it enough to give what she deemed a tantalizing preview of her generous bosom. After she had completed the task, she looked up to find Jaime's attention riveted on the actions of her hands. Her skin grew unbearably hot under his intense gaze as she remembered what had happened between them in the bathhouse. Giving herself a mental reprimand for her weakness, she quickly pushed away the memory before waving her hand to recapture Jaime's wandering attention.

Once his gaze moved back to her eyes, she saw the silent question there. "You said cause a distraction" she told him with an unconcerned shrug. "This would seem like a suitable one."

"I'm not certain. . ." he started, but she began to walk away towards the entrance of the keep without waiting for him to finish. She faintly caught the sound of him furiously whispering her name but paid it no mind as she continued on. Jaime didn't know it, but in addition to the dress, Qyburn had also returned her little dagger which she took care to conceal in the silken sleeves of her dress. Amarah had told Jaime she was prepared to do what was necessary, and she was a woman of her word.

When she entered the glaring pool of light from the flaming torches above the keep, she tried to adopt a helpless expression as she stumbled towards the large, stone arch that led into the courtyard. The two men there took a moment to notice her presence, but once they did she saw them both remove dangerous looking swords from their scabbards and point them in her direction.

"Here now, what are you doin' there?" one of them questioned her as she came closer.

She took a moment to calm the erratic beating of her heart before she attempted to answer him. "They left me behind" she said in a hollow voice groping the stone wall in a show of weakness as she wandered towards them. "That bastard Kingslayer threw me from his horse and laughed when he told me to walk to the capital for all he cared. He just left me there."

Amarah gave a long, mournful sigh as she extolled the tale her woes to these two ruffians. They seemed a bit befuddled by her story at first, but the light of understanding slowly began to dawn on their faces. Taking the advantage of their attention, she thrust her chest forward and waited for them to catch sight of her generous display. The fouler smelling one came towards her then with a hungry look in his eyes. She tried to hold back the grimace that threatened to emerge at his dirty appearance and ugly face, instead choosing to give him a sweet smile that begged for assistance.

"Perhaps you can help me, ser" she breathed softly as he came within an arm's reach of her. He was just close enough now for her to strike him with her dagger. Her eyes darted over his shoulder into the darkness, but she still didn't see Jaime. While Amarah might be able to slice open this soldier's throat, she could never finish off the other one in time before he chopped off her head. Hiding her dismay at Jaime's failure to appear, she looked back at the man before her with an inviting gaze. He took the seductive invitation and moved even closer as he reached out his dirty hand toward her alabaster skin that glowed in the moonlight.

Tracing his grubby fingers over the soft flesh above the neckline of her dress, he gave her a feral smile. "I would be happy to help, m'lady."

He leaned forward then as if to kiss her and Amarah tightly gripped the handle of the tiny blade in her hand as she forced herself to stand there without reacting. His wretched smelling breath hit her in the face like an unpleasant wave as he leaned farther in, and she held back the instant reflex to gag at the smell. Just as his lips hovered over hers, she saw a flash of golden hair and the gleam of a sword as Jaime suddenly emerged from the darkness to stab the other soldier in the back. Ugly in front of Amarah, began to turn his head then at the sound just as she lifted the hand concealing her dagger. She closed her eyes tightly and turned away her head as she swung blindly in front of her. To her relief, she felt the dagger hit something and a warm spray of blood covered her hand and sleeve as she heard the man slump to the ground in silent death.

Amarah's heart was still racing from the jolt of fear that she might not succeed, and the hand covered in the spray of his blood shook almost violently from the knowledge of what she had just done. She slowly opened her eyes once again after the trembling had somewhat subsided, and she looked down to the man fallen at her feet. She studied the head that rested in a rapidly collecting pool of blood and saw a deep slash that divided his left cheek and extended to almost the middle of his neck. It didn't look like a clean kill, but he was dead, so she reasoned that she must have hit _something_ important with her little knife.

Jaime was leaning against the stone wall of the keep trying to collect his breath as he awkwardly re-sheathed the bloody sword in his hand. Once the weapon was put away he looked to her with a disbelieving expression. "Did you just close your eyes before swinging that dagger? Are you completely without sense, woman? You could have missed, and he would have killed me for certain!"

Amarah didn't understand why he was so angry. After all, she had killed the man, and Jaime was still breathing. "There's no need to yell at me like that" she said with a haughty tilt of her head. "Forgive me if I don't wield a dagger like a trained assassin. I killed him didn't I?"

"I'm not - !" Jaime began to rage at her again before stopping himself with a disgusted shake of his head.

Amarah thought she heard him mutter something under his breath then about the gods saving him from brainless women. She opened her mouth to give him a scathing retort, but he cut off her words by grabbing her wrist and yanking her into the empty courtyard. She trailed along behind him silently as he pulled her along to one of the tower entrances to the side of the open space. Once they were safely inside, he released her wrist while he looked about trying to gauge the best way to go in order to find Brienne. Amarah suspected wherever Hoat was, that was where they would find her knight. She voiced these thoughts aloud, and Jaime gave her a condescending look.

"A most insightful thought, Princess" he answered her obvious statement with an annoyed frown that made her want to smack his handsome face. "First we need determine where the goat is. This tower is where the lord of the keep usually resides. No doubt the goat has taken immediate advantage of this residence with his newfound status as Lord of Harrenhal. Though, we'll most likely have to search every last room to find the ugly wench."

His dour prediction was instantly met by the unexpected sound of a horrified scream. Amarah and Jaime's gazes both collided in shock at the sound before they immediately began running towards the source of the noise. Amarah feared that the scream might be Brienne's but it had almost sounded like a man. Contemplating that puzzling thought, Amarah skidded to a halt behind Jaime as he stopped before the chamber where the scream had come from. None of Hoat's men had responded to the noise, but Amarah wondered it the reason for their negligence might be that they had all drunken themselves into an unconscious stupor. It wouldn't surprise her in the least, but it made the possibility of their departure much easier than she had anticipated.

Jaime motioned with his stump for her to stay behind him as he cautiously creaked open the heavy, wooden door and peered inside. He just stood there for a few moments staring into the dim interior, blocking her view, until Amarah grew impatient enough to walk around him and see what was inside. Her eyes grew round in astonishment as they took in a most fascinating sight.

In the middle of the room stood Brienne still wearing that ridiculous pink dress and at her feat lay Vargo Hoat curled into a ball of moaning pain. As she skirted around Jaime to enter the room, Amarah saw that Hoat's hand was covered in bright, red blood as he lay clutching the side of his head. Moving her gaze to Brienne, Amarah noticed that her knight's mouth was spotted with the same fresh blood. That, combined with the fearsome look on her face, gave the impression of some dangerous warrior that might have filled Amarah with a sense of dread if the warrior in question hadn't been sworn to protect her.

"Brienne?" Amarah spoke softly drawing the other woman's attention.

Once she met Amarah's questioning gaze, the burning look of hatred in Brienne's brilliant blue eyes gradually softened as she realized that Amarah had indeed returned for her as she had promised. "I took your advice, my lady" she finally said after a few moments, gesturing towards the pathetic figure on the ground.

"What advice was that?" Jaime questioned from behind Amarah.

Brienne turned her blue eyes on him then before a rare smile crept across her harsh features. "To bite off the closest part of him I could find." At these words she held up something that looked like an ear in her large fist.

Amarah could only stare in shock at the trophy in Brienne's hand as Jaime gave an amused snort of laughter at the lady knight's words. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" he asked before walking past Amarah to bend over the moaning figure on the ground that still clutched the hole where his ear used to be.

"Do you want to kill him?" Amarah asked him after finally regaining the powers of speech.

Jaime considered the question for a moment before shaking his head in denial of the request. "No, he'll suffer enough when my father gets his hands on him. Besides, my desire to get out of this hellhole overrides my desire for vengeance."

However, the desire to depart quickly didn't prevent Jaime from landing a hard kick on the place where Hoat held his bleeding head, prompting another horrified scream of pain from the goat. Jaime gave the man a deadly smile that promised further suffering before leaving him to his agony and departing with Amarah and Brienne trailing after him. Amarah's prediction about Hoat's men sleeping in a drunken stupor must have been correct, for no one appeared to stop them as their trio walked through the muddy courtyard and out through Harrenhal's large gates. It would have almost seemed all too easy if Amarah hadn't been reminded once again of the two bodies that lay facedown in the muddy earth as they passed by them through the stone archway leading to their freedom. That part most certainly had not been easy, but they had succeeded. However, the short joy Amarah felt in their success was immediately overridden by her sense of dread as she remembered where Jaime was taking her. Back to the city where she had sworn never to return. Only the gods knew what fresh horrors awaited her in that den of lions.

She was lost in these morose thoughts as their party crossed the field to once again find the soldiers that waited for them under the cover of the trees. Once they were reunited with their party again, one of the soldiers provided Brienne with the largest suit of armor they could find to replace her bedraggled, pink dress. Once she was suited up again in armor that looked more at home on her large frame, the company mounted their horses to once again depart this haunted place.

As Amarah settled into place in Jaime's saddle she turned to him with a soft smile. "Thank you for helping me save her."

Jaime returned her thanks with his usual mocking expression. "Anything for you, Princess."

Amarah gave a small, inward sigh at his words as she was once again reminded of the new prison her was taking her to. One much more fearsome to her than the haunted keep of Harrenhal. _If only his words were true._

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_I hope it was worth the wait. I wanted this chapter to be a bit lighter since the next few are heavier in tone. I already have a good portion of the next chapter done, and if I get enough good reviews for this one, I might just be motivated enough to finish it in time to post tomorrow! Just puttin' that out there:) As always, thank you for reading! Please review!_


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: **_Thank you as always for the amazing comments! Here's the next chapter as promised. This one is a bit shorter but the next one will be longer to make up for it. Read on!_

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Only two more days until they reached King's Landing, and every step closer filled Amarah with an even greater sense of dread. They had traveled for three days without difficulty and there was no reason to assume they would encounter any hindrance to prevent them from reaching their destination. Amarah almost wished they _would_ be set upon by bandits who took them captive. It would most likely be preferable to being manipulated by the Lannisters. Well, _Tywin_ Lannister might choose to manipulate her to his greatest advantage in this war for power in the seven kingdoms. Cersei would most likely just kill her given the first opportunity. Tyrion would be Amarah's only ally in house Lannister once she reached the capital. Despite all she and Jaime had been through together, she knew he would never defend her against his sister and father. She would be a bloody fool to think otherwise.

These less than cheerful thoughts were what filled Amarah's head as they made camp the third night of their journey. She had drawn more inside herself the closer they traveled to the capital, but, if Jaime noticed her change in demeanor, he said nothing. She still rode with him, and he helped her slide off their horse with his left hand after they came to a halt. Amarah had noticed that his left hand was slowly growing in strength with each passing day, and she suspected he would soon retrain himself in the art of swordplay with his remaining hand. It would not surprise her if he proved to be a better knight with only the one hand than other men who were in possession of both.

She started to walk away before he stopped her with the sound of his voice. "You'll dine with me tonight, Princess."

It was an unusual request since they had taken to eating their meals in the privacy of their own tents since departing Harrenhal, but she nodded her head in agreement all the same. "If you wish it, my lord."

Jaime looked surprised by her formality. "You don't wish to eat with me?"

"Even if I did not, does a prisoner have the right to refuse her captor's orders?"

A dark look passed over his face at her attempt to start an argument with him, and she spotted the angry tick in his jaw that indicated his effort to leash his temper. "Trying to make me the villain once again?"

"I don't need to try."

As soon as Amarah said the words, she regretted them. Jaime didn't deserve her ire. He had acted with as much gentlemanly behavior as could be expected from a Lannister over the last three days. However, her growing anxiety over returning to the capital had her in a fine fit of temper, and he was the one she chose to unleash her fury on. Even if he was acting more kindly towards her now, he was still a Lannister after all.

She could tell he wanted to return her verbal blow with one of his own but decided against it. "Despite your feelings in regard to my moral character, you will still dine with me."

With that order in place he turned to dismount his horse and walked towards the large tent the soldiers had already put in place. Before following him, Amarah took a moment to find Brienne and explain to her knight the reason why she would not be dining with her that evening. Brienne had never been far from Amarah's side since departing the keep of Harrenhal, and she was grateful for it. Whatever dangers Amarah encountered in the next few days, she knew without question there would always be at least one person she could trust.

Once she had spoken with Brienne, Amarah approached the tent Jaime had already entered. There were two torches lit inside and a low-lying makeshift table set up in the center. Jaime sat cross-legged on one side of the table and beckoned her to join him. She complied silently with the request and sank to a pallet on the other side of the table facing him. One of Bolton's men who had been assigned to act as Jaime's squire carried in some meat cut from the rabbits that had been killed and roasted earlier that day. Once the man had left and they were alone, Jaime looked to her with a guarded smile.

"Are you done sharpening your claws on me, Princess?"

She felt shamed by his reminder of her behavior but hid the feelings as she returned his quip. "Stags don't have claws. We have horns."

He gave a faint smile at her correction of his words. "Well are you finished prodding me with them? I don't see what you have to be angry about. Have I done something to offend you? Even if I am your captor as you say, I would point out that I've treated you with much greater hospitality than when our roles were reversed."

That point hit home as Amarah felt another prick of guilt over her earlier comment to him. "You are right, my lord. Forgive me."

Jaime's brows rose in surprise at her apology. "What was that? I think I must have misheard you. Surely the world has come to a crashing end if the princess Baratheon is asking _my_ forgiveness."

Amarah felt a reluctant smile pulling at the corners of her mouth in the face his exaggerated show of surprise. "Keep mocking me like that and I'll take back every word."

Jaime raised his hand in mock surrender before dropping the subject. As he picked up a piece of meat and tore it apart with his teeth before chewing, he regarded her with a thoughtful gaze. Amarah had still yet to touch the food in front of her.

"You don't care for rabbit, Princess?" he questioned her after he had finished swallowing the first bite.

"I'm afraid I've not much of an appetite" she answered with a shrug.

A flash of concern flickered in his eyes at her admission. "Surely it's not my company that's affected you so."

"No" she replied with a quick shake of her curly head. "Merely the thought of our destination."

Jaime considered her response for a moment, and Amarah imagined she could see a trace of sympathy in his gaze before she looked away. "You know I've no choice but to bring you to the capital."

Amarah had been studying the food on her plate after revealing the source of her current anxiety, but her gaze instantly snapped back to his when she heard the seriousness behind his statement. He was looking at her with a most somber expression, his eyes now devoid of any trace of mockery and humor. Once Jaime was certain her had her full attention, he continued on.

"These are not my men that escort us, Princess. They are Bolton's soldiers and they carry out his orders. As long as I agree to abide by those orders, they are under my command, but if I decide to act on my own wishes, they will no longer be quite so accommodating. I have no desire to deliver you to the capital and into the hands of my father. No doubt he'll try to marry you to some stupid, distantly related Lannister to keep the Baratheon house in check. No matter how much of a tragedy I might consider that to be, I have no choice but to continue on."

Any hope she might have felt that Jaime would help her escape this fate wilted instantly after his little speech. "Once your sister knows I'm in the city, I doubt there's any need for me to worry about marrying some stupid Lannister relation. I'll most likely be dead within the hour of our return."

Jaime's face hardened at Amarah's mention of Cersei. "She won't kill you. My father would much rather have you alive than dead. He wouldn't allow it."

"Oh, yes, because most certainly she would ask his permission before slitting my throat" Amarah answered with a harsh laugh. "No matter how you choose to deny what Cersei really is, you cannot dispute the fact that she hates me. It is not some small inkling of dislike that she feels towards me but a burning sense of hatred. She's tried once before to have me killed and she will do it again. _That_ I can assure you."

Jaime leaned towards her then with a look of rare sincerity behind those green eyes. "I won't allow anyone kill you."

She was taken off guard by the unexpected words but didn't give them much credence. "The only way to prevent Cersei from killing me is if I am dead already. So unless you plan to do the deed yourself, there is no way to protect me from her or anyone else."

Frustrated by the course their conversation that was quickly leading no where, Amarah thought it would be a wise decision to bid a good evening. Without giving him the opportunity to respond to the dire prediction of her fate, Amarah stood abruptly leaving her plate of food untouched. She gave Jaime a shallow curtsey before turning to go. He mumbled some sort of farewell to her retreating back before she pushed aside the flaps of his tent and walked out into the darkness of the night. She didn't like leaving him with bitter words between them, but she feared if she stayed any longer, she might say other things she would later come to regret. It was much safer to retreat from this battle rather than continue on.

As Amarah walked towards her tent, she realized that she had left her cloak behind after removing it during her meal with Jaime. She wouldn't have bothered to retrieve it, but the cloak served as her only source of warmth at night. With an irritated huff at her forgetfulness, she turned back to retrace her steps. When she reached Jaime's tent, she was just about to enter in when she was stopped by the sound of Maester Qyburn's voice. Peering inside, she saw both men's backs turned to her as Jaime looked over a piece of parchment in his hand.

He took a moment to look over the message before turning to the old maester. "When did this arrive?"

"Just now, my lord" Qyburn replied. "The raven was sent from Harrenhal just this morning. It all must have happened some time last evening."

"It's true then?" Jaime questioned him further.

"Yes, my lord. Lord Bolten sent his own raven from the Twins to Harrenhal confirming the deaths of Robb and Lady Stark."

Amarah couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her lips on hearing the maester's words. Jaime heard the noise and turned to meet her horrified gaze. While she looked into his eyes, Amarah could not escape the overwhelming sorrow that threatened to choke and envelope her at the news of Robb's death. Without thinking, she turned and ran.

She heard Jaime curse and begin after her, but she didn't care. She just kept running. It felt as if all the cares of the world were raining down upon her head, and she couldn't get away from the pain. Her lungs pumped the cool air in and out in loud gasps, but still she ran on. She had to get away from the pain that was closing around her even now. Her head pounded and throbbed, but she couldn't afford to stop. She had to escape the tide of sorrow that chased her. She had to run faster. She had to get away. Amarah heard Jaime getting closer as he pursued her through the darkness of the forest, but she ran even harder as her legs and lungs burned with the effort. Better to feel this pain than the agony that chased hot on her heels. She wasn't running from Jaime but rather the terrifying weight of sadness and sorrow that she couldn't seem to escape no matter how fast she fled from it.

As she ran blindly along through the dark forest, Amarah's foot caught a stray tree root and she went stumbling face first onto the hard earth. The brambles and branches cut her face and hands as she fell, but she barely felt them. She just scrambled up once again to continue her flight, but just as she began moving again, she felt Jaime come from behind her and wrap his arm about her waist. An instant sense of panic took over her senses as she immediately began to scream and kick like a wild creature, but he refused to release her. She had to make him let her go. She couldn't get away from the pain. He was keeping her from escaping the pain. It was too close now. He _must_ let her go. Amarah continued to scream and flail about until her throat was raw and she became limp with exhaustion, but still he held her fast within his iron grip.

Finally accepting defeat, she then slumped to the dirt covered ground and merely sat there in a state of shock as Jaime kneeled behind her, holding her fast. She couldn't run from the horrifying truth any more. Robb was truly dead. She imagined his face so full of love and kindness that day in the stables as he had bid her farewell in what seemed like another lifetime ago. She remembered his sweet, loving kiss and how he had held her so protectively in his arms. The agonizing realization that she would never feel his arms around her ever again hit Amarah with stunning force. She couldn't escape the pain anymore. It squeezed her heart into a tight iron fist until it shattered into a million pieces.

Then the tears came. She was powerless to stop the flood of sorrow as it carried her along into the sea of never ending agony and grief. Every pent up emotion that she had tried to lock away so deeply inside herself was caught in the flow of the tide, spilling out with her tears. She saw all their faces; her father, Uncle Ned, Renly, Bran, Rickon, Aunt Catelyn, and Robb, the man she had loved more than life itself. They were all gone, and she had never known such agonizing sorrow as this. As the tears continued to flow, she sobbed with grief over those she could not save. Those she loved and would never see again. It was all too much. She couldn't bear the weight of her sadness any more and had finally broken under the strain.

Through all this Jaime said nothing. While she sobbed and moaned like a wounded animal, he remained silent. She felt him continue to hold her in his strong embrace as she crumbled under the weight of her pain. He simply held her through it all.

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_True fact: I shed a few tears right along with Amarah as I wrote this chapter. It was hard to put her through this but it was necessary to bring her to a breaking point. She's always relied on only herself through everything she's experienced and therefore locked away tons of emotions without facing them, and it eventually had to come back and haunt her. Also, this was Jaime's chance to be the pillar of strength that she's now forced to rely on. As I said, a difficult chapter to write but really necessary to the evolution to their relationship and growth as characters. Anyhow, after all that rambling, thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think:) Next chapter we finally get back to King's Landing!_


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **_Thank you for the lovely comments once again! Here's another chapter. It's pretty long since we're finally back in the capital, and there's so much to do. Hope you enjoy it!_

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After what had almost seemed an endless journey, he had finally managed to reach King's Landing. Bolton's men and Qyburn had left to return to Harrenhal, and Jaime now rode towards the gates of the city with the same two women he had started this adventure with many weeks ago. He looked to Amarah who rode her own horse now beside Brienne as Jaime had finally managed to master the reins of his mount with his one remaining hand. Amarah had hardly spoken a word since learning of Robb Stark's death, and even now Jaime still remembered her mournful sobs as she cried in his arms for those she had lost. He had simply held her until she cried herself into exhaustion before carrying her back to the camp and handing her over to the wench. Seeing her in such a state affected him more deeply than he cared to admit, and even now, she was not fully recovered from the shock of Stark's death.

She sat on her horse in silence with the hood of her cloak pulled up to conceal that pretty face. Though he couldn't see her eyes, Jaime assumed the look in them was the same as it had been for the past two days, bleak and hopeless. Amarah had always been inclined to keep her feelings tucked away inside, but he had never seen such a woeful expression of emptiness in her gaze. He had expected her to plead with him not to take her to the city, to save her from his father, but she had done none of that. She simply accepted her fate in silent reserve, and for some mad reason he wished she would fight him on it. He wanted her to show him somehow that she still cared what happened to her, but she did not.

Jaime felt all of his thoughts should be of the sister he longed to hold in his arms once again, but Amarah had invaded his mind and senses. He kept trying to think of some way he could comfort her, to help her see that there was still something worth living for, just as she had helped him after he lost his hand to the goat. Jaime didn't know what to tell her to fight for though. She no longer had any family to run to, no place to go. Nowhere but this place they rode towards now, and it was the last place in the seven kingdoms he wanted her to be.

These bleak thoughts swirled through Jaime's mind as they passed through the gates of the city and rode to the red keep where his family was. As they passed through the streets, Jaime noted that conditions looked worse than when he had left many months before. There seemed to be more beggars on the streets and a rotten stink filled the air with the smells of death and suffering. The unpleasant conditions were due partly to the battle against Stannis but most were likely a direct result of Joffrey's inability to rule.

_Well_ Jaime thought with a grim frown as he surveyed the scene before him _he'll have no difficulty ruling them now._

They had received word almost immediately following the massacre of Robb Stark and his mother at the Twins that Joffrey had been poisoned at his own wedding feast to the Tyrell girl. Jaime had waited for some feeling of sadness or grief to come after hearing the news, but he felt nothing. It sounded rather heartless, he knew, but Joffrey was nothing more to him than some seed he had squirted into Cersei's womb. He had found that no matter how he tried to care for the boy, he couldn't summon any paternal feelings whatsover. Cersei loved her children at least, so their bastards had one parent that cared what happened to them. Jaime didn't see why they needed two.

He was pulled from these musings as they cantered into the outer courtyard of the red keep and found two members of the Kings guard there. Upon closer inspection Jaime saw that one of the guards was young Loras Tyrell. It didn't surprise him that Cersei would have appointed the boy to guard the king as his sister had been meant to marry Joffrey. Jamie pulled his horse to a halt and swung out of the saddle to meet the two men. He glanced behind him and saw that Brienne was dismounting as well and keeping a close eye on Amarah. Jaime was glad she had the wench's attention as his was needed elsewhere. He noted that Amarah still hadn't removed the hood of her cloak, leaving her face shadowed and hidden from view. Turning his attention away from the women, Jaime looked to the two men before him.

"I have two new brothers I see" he said to them by way of greeting.

Loras Tyrell merely bowed his head in acknowledgement but the other man, Ser Meryn Trant noticed the stump on Jaime's right arm. "_Your hand_…"

Jaime cut him off in annoyance before he could continue. "I fight with the left now. It makes for more of a contest. Where will I find the queen?"

"You will find her in the sept" Ser Meryn offered. "She is praying over king Joff-"

"_You!_" Loras Tyrell interrupted then, taking notice of Brienne as she towered behind Jaime holding the reins of the horses. She just stared at him with a stupid expression and said nothing.

With barely leashed rage, Loras stalked angrily towards where the women stood. Amarah still concealed herself within the hood of her cloak escaping the young Tyrell's notice, but all of Jaime's attention was solely for her. He could see from the sudden tenseness in her shoulders that she was ready to defend her knight if necessary. It amazed Jaime that he could sense that about her without even needing to see her face. He slowly followed Tyrell, planting himself by Amarah as the young knight of flowers threatened her wench. She didn't acknowledge his presence but kept her hooded gaze on the two knights before them.

"Why?" Loras demanded of the wench. "You will tell me why. He treated you kindly, gave you a rainbow cloak. Why would you kill him?"

"I never did" the wench defended herself. "I would have died for him."

Loras answered her plea of innocence with a disbelieving sneer as he drew his longsword from his scabbard before pointing at her with deadly intent. "You will die."

Amarah moved towards them then but Jaime grabbed her wrist to keep her by his side. It was time he intervened before the princess lost one more person precious to her or she got herself killed trying to stay Tryell's hand. He made sure Amarah received his message to stay in place before heading between Loras and Brienne.

"Put the sword away, ser" he commanded the young knight in a tone that brooked no nonsense.

Loras's blood was clearly up for revenge as he ignored Jaime's. "This is no concern of yours" he argued trying to shove past him.

No longer in a patient mood, Jaime grabbed the boy with his one good hand and swung him back around to face him. "I am the _Lord Commander of the Kingsgard_, you arrogant pup" he said emphasizing the title Cersei had newly placed on him before his return. "_Your_ commander, so long as you wear that white cloak. Now _sheathe your bloody sword,_ or I'll take it from you and shove it up some place even Renly never found."

Loras looked as if he still wanted to argue, but finally relented before replacing his sword. After that deed was done he looked back to Brienne with murderous rage still in his eyes. "I want her arrested for the murder of Renly Baratheon."

Jaime looked back at Amarah once again and saw she stood where he had left her moments ago, her face still concealed in shadows. With a long-suffering sigh, Jaime realized the only way to get Brienne out of this mess for the time being was to comply with the boy's request to arrest her. He only hoped both women understood that he agreed to the demand merely for the wench's safety. With a quick nod of his head, he gave the order to Ser Meryn.

"Escort Lady Brienne to a tower cell and hold her there under guard."

The man nodded in acceptance of the orders and approached Brienne to escort her away to the towers. Jaime was grateful that Amarah made no move to stop her wench from being imprisoned. She must have understood the reason for Jaime's order, but the wench herself did not. As she was led away, Brienne looked at him with an expression of deep betrayal. Jaime felt the absurd need to defend his actions to the ugly creature, but clamped his lips closed in stubborn refusal. Amarah would explain the situation to her soon enough. With that thought, he looked back at the still, dark figure who had yet to utter a single word. What to do with the girl?

The other soldiers in the courtyard were beginning to notice the mysterious, hooded figure, and Jaime needed some explanation for why she was there. For some reason, he wanted to keep her presence in the city secret for as long possible while he determineed what to do with her. Struck by a sudden notion of how to explain her presence, he walked towards her with a dangerous gleam in his eye and placed his good arm around her shoulders. She stiffened a bit at the touch, but did not push him away. The other men noticed his actions and gave him secretive smiles as if they knew what she really was to him before turning back to their separate tasks. Jaime then noticed a young squire moving towards the keep and called him over.

"Yes, my lord" the gangly thing answered once he was standing before them.

The boy looked familiar but Jaime couldn't place him. It had been too long since he had been in the capital. "What's your name, boy?"

"Podrick Payne, Ser" he answered with a quick bow. "I was the squire to the late Hand of the king, Lord Tyrion."

Jaime felt Amarah tense in his arms at those words, but he squeezed her shoulders in a silent command to say nothing. "What do you mean late Hand?"

"Lord Tywin is Hand now. Lord Tyrion has been thrown into the dungeons for conspiring to kill King Joffrey. Lord Tywin held me for questioning about my lord's role in the king's murder, but when I had nothing to tell he finally released me."

_That is hardly encouraging news_ Jaime thought with a dismal frown but kept the thought to himself. He would see to Tyrion as soon as possible, but the girl at his side demanded his more immediate attention. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of the boy's news about Tyrion before seeing to the matter at hand.

"I need you to assist me, Payne" he said, waiting for the boy to nod his head in agreement before continuing. "I have a companion here as you see" he said caressing Amarah's shoulders with a lecherous smile to give the boy the impression that she was a companion meant for rather sordid purposes. Amarah stiffened again slightly when she understood what he was about but still continued to hold her tongue which he was grateful for. "I need you to escort her to my chambers without drawing undue attention. I wouldn't like it discovered she was in my company, if you understand my meaning. Even we knights of the king's guard need _certain_ companionship at times, and I would not appreciate being denied of hers."

He spoke this request in a polite voice but made certain to employ a threatening gaze in order to instill a righteous amount of fear in the young squire. If the boy had served Tyrion, he was probably well-versed in how to keep secrets as Tyrion had many, and Jaime needed him to keep this one. If Tywin or Cersei heard a woman had accompanied Jaime to the capital, they would immediately know her identity. Jaime wanted to give the girl at least a short respite before her imprisonment began, no matter how small.

Young Payne gave a silent nod of his head in agreement, and Jaime breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. He looked to Amarah to see her reaction to this, but she still kept her face hidden without meeting his eyes. Podrick gestured for her to precede him, and she moved without hesitation with the young squire trailing behind her. As Jaime watched her go, he wondered why she had agreed to his scheme without ever once looking at him to judge his intentions as she usually did. She either had more faith in him than he had previously thought, or she simply didn't care enough what happened to her to determine what his intentions were. He found he would rather not dwell on the answer to that question.

With Amarah taken care of, Jaime immediately began in the direction of the sept where Cersie said her prayers for Joffrey. No doubt their son would need every one of those prayers. She would be in deep grief for the boy as she had loved him greatly, and she would be in need of Jaime's comfort. The thought pushed him to move even faster so he could reach her as soon as possible. Jaime knew that he was the only one Cersei trusted to turn to with her tears since she thought of them as a weakness. At the thought of Cersei's tears, an image of Amarah sobbing in his arms quickly flashed through his mind, but he stubbornly shoved it away. It was his sister that needed him now, not Amarah.

He reached the sept within a few minutes to find a large guard standing at the door. The man moved to stop him from entering, but Jaime quickly shoved him aside explaining who he was. The man whose name was Kettlebeck, _an unfortunate name_ Jaime thought, relented when realizing his identity. Before entering the sept, Jaime gave the man instructions that he and his sister were not to be disturbed. When he entered the dimly lit space, Jaime saw small candles that lined the room as Cersei kneeled at the slab holding Joffrey's lifeless body, weeping silently.

When she heard him enter, she turned her tear streaked face to his with an expression lit with hope. "Jaime?" she questioned him as if she didn't believe he was really there.

Jaime noticed she made no move to come towards him. She never did. She always waited for him to go to her. _I know enough to see she's been leading you around by that cock of yours for longer than I care to think about_ Amarah's words rudely broke into Jaime's subconscious before he shook them away. Gods, he couldn't escape the girl even now with his sister before him. He moved forward then to take Cersei in his arms as he always did. She stood to meet him, but just as he was about to wrap her in his strong embrace she caught sight of the stump on his arm. He quickly looked to gauge her reaction to his deformity and was dismayed by the hint of revulsion he saw there. Immediately, he dropped his arms to his side once again, losing the impulse to hold her in his embrace.

_Your __loving__ sister has probably had more men through her legs than the doorway of Littlefinger's brothel _Amarah's harsh words intruded into his thoughts once again. He gritted his teeth against the memory and pushed it away as he looked at the woman before him. Her beautiful green eyes, so like his, glimmered with tears for their fallen son. Jaime wanted to comfort her, but there was a strange awareness between them that hadn't ever been present before. An awareness that hadn't existed until Amarah filled Jaime's head with her words about his sister. He had been so certain before that they were lies, but as he looked at Cersei now he wondered whether or not they were really true.

"What's this I hear about Tyrion?" he asked trying to forget the girl and her accusations that surrounded his mind like a fog.

Cersei's mournful expression turned hard at his mention of their brother. "He killed Joff, poisoned him before the whole court. Tyrion served him the wine with the poison in it. Everyone saw."

That didn't sound much like something Tryion would do. "Very foolish of him" Jaime murmured quietly.

Cersei reached towards him then, holding his arm as she so often did when trying to persuade him of something. "He swore to me he would do it, and he made good on his threat. He told me that when I was happiest and secure, he would see to it that my joy turned to ashes in my mouth. Even as Joffrey died, he pointed the finger at his murderer, our wretched monster of a little brother. You must kill him for me, Jaime. You must avenge our son. You will, won't you?"

Her suggestion that he kill their brother, one of the few people in this world Jaime truly loved besides her, turned his stomach. Without thinking, he shook off her touch and backed a pace away with a strange look in his eye. He knew she had never liked Tyrion, but he had never seen how far her hate had extended until this moment.

"I can't kill him" he denied with a shake of his head holding up his stump as reason for his refusal.

Cersei was not dissuaded so easily. "You still have one hand. That is all it takes to swing a sword, and Tyrion would be no difficulty for you even then. You can sneak into the dungeons and do the deed before any one knows you have been there."

"No" Jaime repeated once again. The picture she painted in his mind of murdering his helpless brother made him sick.

Cersei's look of pleading turned to one of anger at his refusal. "Did the man who took your hand take your courage as well, brother?"

"I don't consider it courage to murder a dwarf" he answered back in a low voice.

Her face hardened further at his statement before she stepped back a few paces from him as well, placing more distance between them. "Leave me then" she spat before turning back to the corpse of their son.

"Leave you?" Jaime repeated in disbelief. _She would send me from her side because I refuse to murder our brother?_ "I've traveled a thousand leagues to you, lost a part of me along the way, and you ask me to leave you?"

She turned back to look at him then, disdain now mixed with the anger in her eyes. "You've _changed_." She spoke the words like an accusation as if he had betrayed her.

"I lost my hand to a goat" Jaime defended himself.

She shook her head in denial. "No it's more than that. You've changed somehow, and I don't like it. Leave me."

It was on the tip of Jaime's tongue to ask Cersei then about Amarah's accusations as she stood there accusing him, but he held his tongue. He didn't want to think about the reason for his hesitancy to ask her if the things Amarah had said were true. _Because I fear they might be._ As he stood there and looked at her unforgiving expression, he felt as if he were seeing her in an entirely different light. Had he been so unaware of her cruelty before? Perhaps she was right. He had changed. He didn't see her the same now as he always had before. His mind had been invaded by another who was warping the picture he always carried of his sister. Had he truly changed? He contemplated this perplexing thought as he complied with her wishes and turned to leave.

Before he reached the door he was stopped suddenly by the sound of her voice. "Wait!"

Jaime felt a small smile grow on his face at her refusal to let him go. He had been wrong after all. She was the same lover he remembered from before. He still had her love. However, once he turned to face her again, the smile on his face instantly died when he saw the anger that still lingered in her gaze, but this was not the same anger she had directed at him before. This was anger of a different kind. _Burning hatred_ he remembered Amarah's description of it.

Cersei approached him in a few short strides before they stood face to face once again. "Where is that little Baratheon bitch that was sent back to the capital with you?" she asked him in a dangerous whisper. "We received word from Bolton's ravens that he was sending her to our father as a gift."

Jaime was suddenly made very uneasy by the intense hatred burning in his twin's eyes. She had never disguised her dislike of Amarah before, but this was a side to her he had never seen. A dark, dangerous hate he had never witnessed, and he didn't like it.

He tried to keep an even tone when answering that wouldn't betray his protective feelings of the girl. There was no reason for Cersei to hate Amarah even more, if such a thing were even possible. "Why do you want her, sister?"

Cersei didn't even hesitate before answering. "I want to watch her face as she dies."

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It was quite some time before Jaime was finally able to retire for the evening. After his meeting with Cersei he had gone to speak with his father about all that had occurred since they had last been together and there was also the matter of Tyrion's imprisonment discuss. Tywin had informed Jaime that Gregor Clegane had gone back to Harrenhall to find Vargo Hoat wasting away from an infectious fever caused by the loss of his ear. Jaime had thought the circumstance rather humorous and wanted to share the news with Brienne even though he didn't think she would share his level of amusement. Although he found the thought of the goat's agonizing death rather uplifting, the accusations on Tyrion's head worried Jaime greatly. He was still thinking on that unfortunate circumstance as he quietly opened the door of his bedchamber and slipped inside. He had been quiet in the expectation that Amarah would be fast asleep, but as he entered he caught sight of her at the window looking into the dark night with a listless gaze.

She had changed from her traveling clothes into a nightdress that she had likely charmed the young squire into acquiring for her. In the wispy, white material she almost looked like a ghost standing there gazing into the night. Her concentration must have been quite focused elsewhere because she wasn't even aware of his presence until he was almost upon her. When she finally turned to look at him, they were mere inches apart. At so close a distance, there was no missing the sadness in her eyes, and it haunted Jaime. He missed the mischievous humor in her gaze that seemed to lift his spirits even when he thought her a nuisance. The girl before him now with this despondent look seemed almost a stranger.

"Did you come to make sure I hadn't run away?" she asked bitterly finally breaking the silence between them. "Tell me, Jaime. Where would I run to?"

He was taken by surprise at her use of his name. She had not called him that since whispering it in his ear that night at Harrenhal. The erotic image that memory stirred caused him to instantly harden at the thought. His reunion with his sister had been less than satisfying, leaving him in a state of sexual frustration. Having Amarah so close him now while he was in this state was dangerous to his peace of mind. He quickly backed a few steps away from her before replying.

"You still have family, Princess."

Something seemed to spark in her eyes then at his words. A brief flicker of life, but it was there. "Where is Sansa?" she asked him cautiously as if almost fearful of the answer.

He didn't have good news to tell her, but it was not as bad as it could be. "It seems she disappeared from the city immediately following Joffrey's death. No one knows where she's gone."

Jaime could see the despondency slowly leaking from Amarah's gaze as she thought about her missing cousin. "Cersei must be going mad over the thought."

"She seems to be more concerned with my brother at the moment" Jaime answered.

"Might I assume she wants me to join him in the dungeons before the sun rises" Amarah asked mockingly. Most might not find the sign of her anger a positive thing, but Jaime did. This was the most life he had seen in her since she had broken down in his arms two nights ago.

"No, don't tell me" Amarah continued on. "She wishes to execute me at dawn. What better way to heal the pain of her son's passing than to watch me die?"

"She won't kill you" Jaime told her then, drawing a skeptical gaze.

"Won't she?" Amarah asked. "And how can you be so sure of that?"

Jaime gave her a wicked smile then. "Because she can't kill you if you already happen to be dead."

At his answer, a look of fear crept into Amarah's grey eyes as she backed away from him even further. "When I suggested you do the deed first I meant it in jest" she told him with a wary gaze. "I never intended for you to actually kill me."

Jaime shot her an annoyed frown over her misinterpretation of his words. "I'm not going to kill you, you silly woman." She relaxed a bit then at his assurance that he wasn't going to shorten her by a head.

"Then what exactly did you mean by that?" she asked quietly.

"I told her you were already dead" Jaime supplied the answer with a careless wave of his hand.

It seemed he had finally managed to shock her with that answer. "You what? And you mean to say she believed you?"

"Sometimes people believe what they want to hear, Princess" Jaime whispered softly as he approached her once more. He was done talking now. His blood was running high, and he wanted to _feel_ her. He remembered her touch on him when he had bared his soul to her that night in the bathhouse. He remembered how it had eased his pain. Perhaps now he could do the same for her.

Once he had finally reached her, Jaime slowly ran his hand up her cool arm before dipping it behind her neck to untie the strings that held her flimsy night dress together. Amarah seemed to have forgotten what they were just discussing as she eyed him in astonishment, but he noticed she made no move to push him away. Emboldened by her reaction, Jaime finished untying the loose knot until one side of the dress slid seductively over her pale shoulder. Fascinated by the entrancing sight, Jaime moved his hand to the soft skin there. As he softly trailed his finger along her collar bone to the edge of her shoulder, he heard her breath start to flutter in short gasps.

"What are you doing?" she finally managed to whisper as she continued to watch his hand.

He took his hand from her shoulder then and moved it to her chin to force her gaze to his. "I recall you paying me a similar favor once when I needed a moment free from pain" he whispered, leaning closer towards her soft mouth until he felt her sweet breath brush softly across his lips. "I would be remiss in neglecting to do the same, and a Lannister always pays his debts."

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_Was it mean of me to leave y'all hangin' like that? Sorry:) I tried this once before and it worked pretty well, so we'll give it another go. If I can get ten reviews for this chapter, I will post the next one tomorrow morning. Will Amarah let the sexytimes roll? ____Review and find out:) _(Hint: You probably won't be too disappointed) Also, note that next chapter will develop the implications behind that interesting lie Jaime told about Amarah. As always, thanks so much for reading!


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note:** _Wow! 200 reviews? You guys are amazing! Thanks so much! (I should bribe you with sexy scenes more often:) For all of the wonderful reviews, here's the chapter I promised. I hope you like it! (Warning: Adult content throughout a good portion of the chapter here)_

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Amarah's senses were in a muddle of confusion. One moment she feared Jaime was about to slit her throat to please his bitch of a sister and the next he was offering to make love to her to ease her pain. Once he whispered his intentions in that seductive purr, she suddenly felt her knees go a bit wobbly as she leaned towards him for support. He must have taken her movement as acceptance, because he wrapped his arms tightly around her as he began to place warm, wet kisses on her exposed neck that caused her to shiver in delight. He was making it terribly difficult for her to think.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered why he was here with her instead of the sister he claimed to love so much. Something must have happened between them to spoil the loving reunion, but Amarah didn't want to think about what that was. She just knew that Jaime was here now holding her in his arms, and, gods, but it felt wonderful. All the pain and sorrow she had held inside over the past two days had begun to make her feel numb inside. As if life was no longer worth living. She so desperately longed for relief from her suffering, and she wanted him to make her _feel_ again. Robb was gone. As much as that truth pained her, she would never see him again, but _this_ man. This man who had gently held her as she cried tears of sorrow for those she loved. This man who lied to his own family to see her kept safe. This man was here with her now, and she wanted him to make her feel something once again.

Amarah felt a single tear slide down her face before she whispered her plea in his ear. The plea to help make her whole again. "Please, Jaime."

He didn't even need to ask what it was she pleaded for. With a tender caress of her shoulders to soothe her, Jaime moved his gentle mouth from her neck to kiss away the stray tear that fell down her cheek, and Amarah wanted to weep again at his gentleness. He seemed to sense her urge to cry, but gave her that wicked smile of his as he cupped her face with the warm palm of his hand.

"Do my kisses make you cry now, Princess?" he asked her softly.

She gave a watery smile at his question and shook her head in denial. "No, apparently they wipe them away."

A warm grin began to grow on his face at her assurance, and Amarah had never found him more beautiful. She remembered how she had once thought him a golden god, but in this moment he truly seemed one. Some blessed god that had been sent to her now when she needed him most to take away her pain.

After a few moments of just gazing at her face, Jaime moved his attention once again to her thin nightdress that now balanced precariously on one shoulder. Giving it a swift tug with his good hand, it instantly pooled at her ankles leaving the rest of her bare to the cool, evening breeze. She had the instant urge to cover herself from his heated gaze, but he caught her arms before she could move them to shield her nakedness.

"No, Princess" he shook his head with a gentle smile. "Don't ever hide from me."

She hesitantly moved her arms back to her side and stood there as he just looked her over from head to toe like she was a delectable morsel. She felt her nipples begin to pucker under the intensity of his gaze, and a delightful tingle began in her fingers and worked its way to the very heart of her. She trembled a bit under the onslaught of foreign sensations, but Jaime must have mistaken her reaction as a result of the cold temperature of the room, for he quickly scooped her up in his strong arms before carrying her to the fur covered bed.

Once he placed her gently on the bed, she expected him to remove his own clothes, but he made no move to leave her. His hard heat covered her from head to toe and she shivered again at the delightful feeling. It seemed rather deliciously sinful for her to lie there stark naked while he remained fully clothed. For a few moments Jaime seemed simply content to trace his fingers across her goose fleshed skin in delicate patterns much as she had done to him that night in the baths. She felt she might go mad soon though if he didn't give her something _more_. She longed to beg him to do something, but she stubbornly remained silent as she waited to see what he would do.

Despite her silence though, he seemed to read the impatience in her eyes as he gave her an understanding smile. "I have to force myself to be gentle with you, Princess."

She couldn't help but smile a bit at his admission. "You've always been gentle with me" she reminded him.

That thought seemed to surprise him a bit as he let it sink in. "Only with you, Princess."

With these words he moved that tempting mouth towards her face as he softly traced kisses over her brows and down the ridge of her nose. After taking a moment to torture her thus, he placed short, delicate kisses on either side of her mouth before placing his lips squarely over hers. The kiss started off a bit hesitantly as if he were forcing himself to go slowly, but gradually it deepened into something more. He slowly traced the outline of her lips with his tongue sending another of those tingling sensations streaking down her fingertips to the center of her where a multitude of pleasurable sensations was beginning to build. Then he gently pushed past her sealed lips and ate at her like a man starved. Amarah almost couldn't draw breath as he plundered her mouth so thoroughly, but she didn't find the feeling an unpleasant one. Their first kiss had been intoxicating to her senses, but this one seemed to overwhelm them completely.

As he continued to tangle his tongue so seductively with hers, Amarah slowly reached her hands up to frame his face and pull him closer to her. Her touch seemed to inflame his passion even more as he then pulled her slightly away from the bed towards his searching mouth, and she couldn't hold back her soft moan of delightful at the feelings was arousing in her. She feared if he didn't soon stop overwhelming her senses with his kiss, she might never again be able to think clearly. As if he could read her thoughts, Jaime abruptly broke the kiss and panted heavily as if he had just fought in a mighty battle rather than give her a heart-stopping kiss.

His eyes which were now clouded with passion cleared just a bit as he regarded her with a wicked smile that promised all manner of sinful delights. "I'm going to kiss you now, Princess."

She raised her brows questioningly at his words. "I thought you already had?"

"Oh, I've kissed you here" he said gently brushing his thumb over her lips swollen from his kisses. "Now I intend to kiss you _everywhere_ else."

Amarah didn't even have time to ask what he meant before he set about proving it to her. Without hesitation, he moved his sinful mouth in a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses down her slender neck directly to her breasts. Never taking his lips from her skin, Jaime looked up to her with a gaze full of wicked intent before placing a soft kiss directly atop the puckered nipple of her right breast. Her shock at his actions was instantly overwhelmed by the pleasure that filled her at his wicked touch. After placing the soft kiss, Jaime proceeded to open his lips and suck her into his mouth. If he hadn't been laying on top of her, Amarah would have bucked off the bed in her surprise. At first, she moved her hands to his golden head to push him away, but as he continued to draw her into his warm, wet mouth, she found herself holding him in place instead with incoherent pleas softly falling from her lips.

Once Jaime had taken his fill of that breast, he moved to the other and began his torture all over again. As he worked his mouth over her aching breast, she felt herself becoming strung tighter and tighter like a bow string about to snap. Just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, he released her breast and moved to place one more soft kiss on her lips before his weight was gone.

Amarah's eyes had been closed till this point as he kissed and suckled her, but they instantly sprung open once his welcoming heat was gone from her skin. She opened her mouth to ask him why he had left, when she saw he had merely moved his attention to the lower half of her body where all the pleasant sensations he was stoking in her had gathered into a tight coil of pleasure. She was horrified at where his gaze studied her most intently and was about to scold him when he suddenly swooped his head and kissed her _there_.

Amarah instantly formed her lips to give him a scathing remark for his depravity, but the words of anger quickly turned to breathless moans as he kissed and licked at her as if she were some delicate treat to be tasted and sampled until he was thoroughly satisfied. She threw her dark head back against the soft furs of the bed as she balled her small hand in a fist and bit it to keep her moans of pleasure from becoming too loud for others to hear. The harder she tried to stay quiet though, the more he worked her with his mouth and the tighter she felt the coil of pleasure pull. She couldn't take it any more. He had to stop.

She must have moaned that request aloud because she felt him mumble a response into the very heart of her. "Just let go, Princess."

What did he mean let go? Her confusion was interrupted as he placed two fingers to join his tongue and she did buck off the bed then as he filled her so completely. He laid his arm with the stump across her stomach to keep her lying flat as he continued to devour her. Gods, this was depraved and wicked, but she must be those things as well because she wanted him to never stop. Her body was drawing tighter now to the point of snapping, when she felt him press his thumb against that center where all her pleasure gathered just before she felt herself burst into a million pieces. Her vision was covered in a thousand sparks of light as she felt herself floating on the wave of never ending pleasure. It was like nothing she had ever felt before.

After a few moments of pure bliss, she finally felt herself returning to her body once more as Jaime slowly crawled over her once again with a satisfied look on his face. She wanted say something to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face but found she was too breathless to form any words. He gave her another kiss then, but this one was much gentler than the last as he slowly helped her return to herself. Once he lifted his mouth from hers, she saw that the intense passion from before still burned there, but he had placed it under firm control.

"What about you?" she managed to breathe after catching her breath.

He gave a tight smile at her question but shook his head. "I'll see to myself, Princess."

He started to move away from her then, but Amarah wouldn't let him escape so easily. Moving her hand to quickly catch his retreating arm, she gave him a demanding look. "No."

Jaime raised one brow to her command in mocking reply. "No?"

"No" she repeated once again before quickly knocking him off balance and switching their positions so that he now lay flat on his back while she straddled his hips.

"Plan to have your wicked way with me, Princess?" he asked before moving his hand to caress her naked hip.

Returning the same wicked smile he had given before as her only reply, Amarah swiftly proceeded to unlace his woolen breeches before reaching inside to find what it was she so eagerly sought. He was already hard as a rock, and it didn't take many strokes in her firm grip before he too fell off the precipice of pleasure. As he gave into the wrenching delight, Amarah immediately leaned forward to catch his loud groan of fulfillment with her mouth. Once he had finally returned to his senses, Amarah broke the kiss and rolled off of him before ordering him to finish undressing.

Jaime turned to look at her then with a questioning gaze, but she returned it with a quick shake of her head. "I just want to sleep now, but I think you might be more comfortable without all those clothes."

Jaime looked a bit confused at her suggestion. 'You want to sleep naked with me in the same bed?"

"It seems far more less wicked than what we have already done" she reasoned with an unconcerned shrug of her shoulders.

Jaime seemed to think about her suggestion for a moment before finally rising from the bed and complying with her request. Amarah tried not to stare as he removed each item of clothing, revealing more of him to her gaze. His back was to her as he finished undressing, but he suddenly turned around just as he had finished removing the last of his clothing, catching her in mid stare. She felt she should be embarrassed somehow, but could only manage a sheepish grin at her shameless enjoyment of his physique. Jaime gave a small chuckle at her expression before moving to join her in the bed.

Amarah scooted to the other side of the bed under the furs to make room for him, but he surprised her by instantly wrapping his arm around her waist and yanking her back to him until she was laying half on top of him with her head resting on his naked chest. "Does this not seem rather too intimate to you?" she asked hesitantly.

Jaime tilted her chin up to look at him before answering. "I like having you in arms reach. It makes it easier to keep an eye on you."

His statement reminded Amarah of what he had said earlier about telling Cersei she was dead. "What _do_ you intend to do with me now that you've told your family I've departed this world? Surely you don't intend me to hide away under your bed for the rest of my life."

"It _would_ be rather convenient, don't you think?" Jaime asked playfully before Amarah gave him a soft smack in the ribs. He gave an amused smirk at the unexpected action before reaching down to catch her wandering hand. "I plan to let you go with the wench to find that missing cousin of yours if you would like."

For some reason the thought of him sending her away caused a sharp prick of pain inside, but she ignored it. This was what she wanted after all, to leave the capital. Even if it meant leaving him. "When do we leave?"

"Not yet" he said while absently stroking her curls. The intimate gesture caused something painful to squeeze around her heart. He was becoming too precious to her. This man of golden beauty and wicked smiles. She would have to be careful with him. Oblivious to her inner turmoil Jaime continued on. "Give me some time to discover what I can about what happened with Joffrey's murder and the part Sansa Stark played. Perhaps that can give us some idea where she's gone to."

Amarah nodded her head in agreement of that request. "Where am I to stay while you conduct these little inquiries?" she questioned looking up at him once again. "I would still rather not hide away under your bed, even if for only a few days rather than the rest of my life."

He gave a lazy smile then at her humorous confession. Amarah returned the smile and realized that this was the first time she had felt any small amount of happiness since her heart had broken in half two nights ago, spilling out all her pain. How odd it was that a man she had once hated was the only one now that could bring a smile to her lips in the midst of personal sorrow.

Jaime's voice pulled her from the wandering thoughts as he answered her question. "I have a plan of what to do that doesn't involve you squatting on all fours beneath my mattress" he assured her before yawning loudly. "But why don't we wait to discuss that till morning."

She nodded her head in agreement before reclining it once again on his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep. "Goodnight, Princess" she heard him murmur softly before they both slipped into a dreamless slumber.

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_Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it:) You'll have to stick with me to find out what Jaime has planned:) Let me know what you think! All comments are appreciated._


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: **_Thanks so much for your wonderful comments! I took the weekend off from writing which is why it took a little while to get this next chapter up, but it's finally here. Enjoy!_

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The glare of the morning sunlight filtered through Jaime's closed lids, gradually rousing him from sleep. As he tried to fend off the call back to consciousness, Jaime felt something soft tickling his cheek. Curious, he slowly cracked open his heavy lids to find a very naked princess lying on his bare chest. The tickly sensation against his cheek had been caused by her mass of curly hair that brushed his face as she slept with her little head resting on his shoulder. As he looked at her peaceful expression, the memory of last night came flooding back, piercing the fog of sleep that surrounded his brain. He remembered how magnificently she had responded to his touch, how she had coaxed him to pleasure with hers.

At the thought of her eager touch on him last night and the feeling of her naked form pressed against him now, all the blood in Jaime's body immediately raced to his loins, tenting the bedcovers in front of him. He briefly looked at her sleeping form once more, considering waking her to help ease his discomfort, but quickly decided against it. If Amarah put her hands on him now, he would doubtless have the girl flat on her back and be buried inside of her within moments. As pleasurable as the thought was, Jaime knew she wasn't ready for such intimacy between them. So with great reluctance, he gently disentangled himself from her tempting form and slid out of the warm bed.

He quietly padded to the basin of water a few steps from the bed before splashing the cool liquid on his face to rouse him from his sleepy state and help take his mind off thoughts of the naked woman in his bed. When he had returned to her last night, he never had any intention of touching her, but she had looked so forlorn he couldn't help trying to ease her sorrow. At first his intentions had been a bit selfish as he had eyed her figure through that flimsy, white nightdress, but they had quickly turned to thoughts of her pleasure rather than his. He remembered that mournful plea she had whispered in his ear. _Please, Jaime._ Those words had stirred something inside of him. Something dangerous. He had felt protective of Amarah up until that point, even felt an attraction to her, but he had never before felt her reach inside of the dark depths of his heart and stir something there. Not until last night when she had clung to him, as if he were an anchor keeping her from drifting out onto an endless sea of sorrow and pain.

Jaime splashed the cold water on his face once again, trying to shake the unsettling thoughts from his head. He didn't want Amarah to work her way into his heart. She didn't belong there. He might worry for her, yes, but he couldn't let her come to mean more than that. It was too dangerous to let himself care for another woman in such a way. Love brought too much pain. Jaime thought of his sister then, of what had transpired between them last night. She had seemed almost a stranger to him. He had never remembered her being so cold, so distant. He could still hear her asking him to take Tyrion's life, trying to persuade him of how easy it could be, and the memory of her heartlessness towards their own brother chilled him to the bone.

Looking in the glass before him, Jaime studied his face. Had Cersei changed or was _he_ the one who was different as she had said? _You've changed._ He heard her bitter accusation still ringing in his ears like a chant, not allowing him forget. Gazing at the familiar features of his face, Jaime noticed no great difference. He looked more gaunt from months suffering a lack of nourishment and sleep, and his golden hair was much shorter now on top of his head where Amarah had hacked it off with the dagger. Despite those changes though, it still appeared rather similar to the face that had stared back at him his entire life, but _something_ had changed. A different man peered back at him behind those green eyes. A man who had been shaped by the trials he had endured since leaving the prisons of Riverrun in the company of two women.

While Jaime stood staring at his reflection, he was distracted by the sound of movement from the bed. Turning around, he saw that Amarah was now sitting up and stretching her limbs like a lazy cat as she slowly opened her eyes to take in the surroundings of the room. Moving her sleepy gaze to his nude form that stood a few feet from the bed, her eyes instantly lost their drowsiness and were replaced by astonishment as she took in his appearance. Jaime saw the memory slowly seep into her gaze then as she continued to stare at him in silence. He also noticed an enchanting blush traveling from her neck to her hairline before she hurriedly grabbed the bedcovers to cover her nakedness.

Jaime gave an amused grin at her sudden shyness. "There's no need to hide, Princess. I've already seen it all."

She shot him an annoyed scowl over his causal reminder. "I've never woken up naked with a man before."

"Is that so?" Jaime asked her in mock surprise as he strolled back to the bed where she still sat covering her breasts. Without allowing her any time to react, he quickly yanked the temporary covering away, exposing her once again to his hungry gaze. "I would suggest you make the most of it then."

With a look of alarm in those grey eyes at his intentions, Amarah quickly scrambled backwards on the bed to get away from him, but Jaime wouldn't allow her escape him so easily. Wrapping his good hand around her retreating ankle, he gave it a swift tug until she was sliding across the sheets and under him once again. Pinning her small form under his much larger frame, Jaime gave her a disapproving frown.

"I thought I told you never to hide from me, Princess." At these words, he reached up to caress her pretty face with his right arm before realizing that he no longer had a hand to touch her with. Seeing the ugliness of his stump about to stroke her skin, he quickly mumbled a curse before trying to snatch it away, but this time she refused to let _him_ escape.

Quickly moving her hand to catch his arm, Amarah brought it to her face once again. "Don't ask me not to hide from you if you are not willing to do the same" she whispered softly before moving the ugly stump to her lips and placing a gentle kiss there. As he watched her, Jaime felt that dangerous stirring in his heart once more. Where Cersei had been repulsed by his deformity, Amarah embraced him with kindness and compassion.

Shaken by the unexpected gesture, Jaime quickly released her before rising once again from the bed. She looked a bit hurt at his sudden departure, but did not call him back. He was relieved that she did not. Jaime couldn't be held accountable for his actions if he got back into that bed with her.

"You should get dressed" he suggested swiftly. "We need to talk." Putting her in some clothes would help remove some of the temptation to give in to his more basic urges where she was concerned. Not entirely of course, but it would help to ease his mind tremendously.

Realization immediately dawned in Amarah's eyes at the reminder of his plans regarding what to do with her while she remained in the capital. Quietly nodding her head in agreement, Amarah slipped out of the bed to find her discarded dress from the night before. Jaime watched her for a few moments before turning his head away from the fetching sight to find his own clothes. He was getting rather proficient at dressing himself with the one hand, and it wasn't long before they were both in a comfortable state of dress once again.

Avoiding the bed, Jaime waved her towards the chairs before the cold, empty fireplace. Once she had been seated, they heard a small scratching sound at the door indicating someone else's presence. Amarah jumped slightly at the intrusion, but Jaime gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder before going to let in the unannounced visitor. Before he had returned to his chamber the previous evening, Jaime had made certain to speak with a particular person who would help him hide Amarah's presence in the city.

Once he reached the closed, wooden door, Jaime slowly opened it to reveal Varys's expectant face. "How fortunate to see you looking so much better this morning, my lord" the eunuch said in that whispery tone of his.

Not bothering to return the insincere greeting Jaime waved the man quickly inside once he was certain that no one was about. He didn't trust the man entirely, but there was no other person at court who kept secrets better than Varys. Peter Baelish knew much about others, but he liked to lord his knowledge over people in order assert his authority. Varys felt no such need. He already knew the power he held over others with his vast knowledge of their many secrets without feeling the need to reveal his hand. It was a trait that made him much more dangerous than Littlefinger, but also more valuable. Jaime had been forced to threaten the man into helping him, but once Varys agreed to help hide the princess, Jaime had to trust him to keep his word. The only other person Jaime could have turned to for help was now imprisoned in a dungeon. Varys was the only way to safely hide Amarah without his family knowing she was here.

Once Amarah saw who the visitor was, she eyed him with a wary gaze. "Lord Varys" she greeted him with chilling politeness. "It has been too long."

Varys gave her a shallow bow before returning her greeting. "Might I say, my lady, you are looking very well. Your presence has been sorely missed at court."

"Enough with the pleasantries" Jaime interrupted curtly. He was in no mood to play the game of politeness. "Lord Varys is here because he has agreed to help me hide you in the city."

Amarah looked back to Varys then with an expression of surprise. "Has he? How kind of him to help."

"Any person always can be persuaded to help another with the right inducement, my lady" Varys offered, raising his hands in a helpless gesture.

"How fortunate then Jaime could persuade you to help me" Amarah returned with a falsely sweet smile.

Varys turned to regard Jaime then with a penetrating gaze that unnerved him. "Yes, I was surprised at the request, but intrigued as well. Many unexpected alliances are formed in times of war and struggle."

Jaime returned the eunuch's speculative look with a hard smile. "Your interest in our alliance aside, have you done as I asked?"

"Yes, my lord" Varys answered with speculation now gone from his gaze, only to be replaced by an enigmatic expression that hid his true thoughts. "I've come to take her with me now, as a matter of fact."

Jaime didn't know if he liked the idea of letting Amarah out of his sight and in Varys's company no less. He still didn't completely trust the secretive eunuch. His hesitation must have showed though because Varys continued on without waiting for his reply. "It wouldn't do for you to accompany us, my lord. Your presence would draw too much unwanted attention to any of our movements. She will be safe enough with me."

"Where exactly are you taking me might I ask, Lord Varys?" Amarah spoke then, apparently annoyed that they were leaving her out of the conversation.

Varys turned to regard her question with a bland smile. "Since Lord Baelish's sudden departure from the city, I have inherited the responsibilities of his lucrative establishment. We should be able to hide you safely enough there until you decide to leave the city."

It took a moment for Varys's words to sink in before Amarah's eyes rounded in angry shock, and she quickly turned her offended gaze to Jaime. "You intend to hide me in a _brothel_?" she raged at him, rising from her chair in agitation.

Jaime rose as well, matching her angry stance. "Do you have a better suggestion?" he hissed. "If not, this is the only way to keep my father and sister from discovering your presence in the city. If that were to happen, I'd wager a prison cell would be more offensive to your delicate sensibilities than a brothel."

Amarah looked as if she wanted to argue his point, but after she considered his words for a few moments her shoulders eventually sagged in defeat. "I suppose I cannot argue that point."

"I suppose not" Jaime returned with barely restrained sarcasm before turning to face Varys once more. "Can you transport her between the brothel and the palace if the need arises?"

"Of course, my lord" Varys assured him without bothering to ask what those needs might be. "There are different means at my disposal of safely transporting her to and from the keep."

Amarah's eyes immediately lit with interest at that last statement. "Could you get me into the dungeons to see Tyrion?"

Jaime and Varys both looked at her then with matching expressions of surprise at her unexpected request. "I suppose , my lady, but it would be no easy task. You must allow me some time to see if such a thing is even possible."

"Why do you want to see Tyrion?" Jaime questioned her ignoring Varys's response. Again, he wondered how deeply her attachment to Tyrion went. In an unwelcome realization, Jaime found he was a feeling the smallest bit jealous at the bond Amarah shared with his brother. Quickly brushing away the annoying feeling, he patiently waited for her reply.

"It's been so long since I've seen him" Amarah answered with a helpless shrug. "I want to see that he's all right before I leave the city."

"I might be able to help, my lady" Varys assured her once again. "But it's best if we leave now. Ser Jaime's presence is expected elsewhere."

Amarah didn't look as if she entirely trusted the man, but she slowly nodded her head in agreement. Turning to Jaime, she moved to give him a quick farewell. She didn't embrace him but she leaned forward to whisper something to him. "Thank you, Jaime Lannister" she breathed softly in his ear before quickly pulling away once again.

Jaime didn't have time to return her farewell before he saw Varys push a stone above the fireplace, opening a hidden door in the wall that led to a secret passage. If he hadn't been currently preoccupied with Amarah's safety, Jaime might have found it unnerving that a secret passageway had been hidden in his chambers all these years without his knowledge. Varys disappeared into the shadowed passage first, but Amarah hesitated for a moment before turning to glance at Jaime one last time. She looked to him for a few moments with a silent request in her eyes that pleaded with him not to forget about her. Jaime returned the her pleading look with an assuring gaze. He wouldn't forget. After a few seconds longer, Amarah finally tore her eyes away from his and followed Varys into the darkness. Then she was gone.

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_I thought it would be fun to add Varys into the mix:) No one's better at keeping a secret than him. Also, now we have the possibility of a meeting up with Tyrion too! What will happen next? Keep reading and find out! Please review or let me hear your thoughts as they are always appreciated:) Thanks so much for reading!_


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the reviews, comments, etc.! This chapter we're gonna stick with Amarah since I couldn't resist taking the first opportunity to write about her adjusting to life in a brothel. There were just too many wonderful possibilities there. I'm not crazy about the whores on the show (ok, I just don't like Ros) so I'm going to rework things a bit to write in the girls from the books instead. Hope you enjoy!_

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As Amarah walked through the darkness of the passageway with Lord Varys, she studied him with a wary gaze. _The Spider, a creature just as cunning as the man himself._ She remembered Tyrion's words regarding the man when she had been a young girl learning the game of intrigue. Varys had been Tryion's first lesson to her. The mysterious eunuch knew a great many secrets, but didn't take to buying and selling them like others at court. He knew much, and he kept the secrets hidden, buried so no others could discover them unless he wished them too. Varys didn't want power. He wanted to stay in favor with those who held it while he took care to shield his own agenda. Amarah had never quite discovered what that agenda was, but not for a lack of trying. The man _and_ his motivations were equally impossible to figure out, and that was why she felt so wary of him now. As hesitant as Amarah was to fully trust Jaime who had proved nothing but faithful in keeping her safe thus far, she was _far_ more wary of trusting Varys the eunuch.

"Is there something you wish to say, my lady?" Varys suddenly asked in that unnerving half-whisper of his. The question startled her because he asked it without even glancing towards her to discover her intense study of him.

She stopped walking for a moment, forcing him to finally turn his gaze towards her. It seemed a useless gesture to capture his attention for she could tell his motivations no better now than when he had been staring ahead into the darkness. "Why are you helping me?" she finally asked with a gaze narrowed in suspicion.

"Ser Jaime did not offer much of a choice in the matter" he offered, lifting his pale hands in a helpless gesture.

Amarah wouldn't accept that reasoning too readily. "He can hardly pose much of a threat to you in his present condition" she pointed out. "Why did you agree to it?"

"You pose no true threat to the crown, my lady. So there seemed to be no harm in indulging Ser Jaime's wishes" he supplied in an unconcerned tone.

It raised Amarah's hackles a bit that the man was so sure of _her_ motivations when she could not even begin to guess his. "Why do you think I prove so small a threat to the king who sits on the throne, Lord Varys? After all, my claim to it is much stronger than Joffrey's ever was."

"And yet despite his death, you still decline to claim it" the Spider answered her with a veiled smile. "If you had wanted power, Lady Amarah, you would have tried to establish yourself long ago as a possible ruler for the kingdoms. You are a charming enough woman when you wish to be. Doubtless you could have swayed the masses in your favor if you had put forth the effort, but you did not. You fled the capital given the first opportunity. Hardly the sign of a woman who wished to gain power for herself."

"You seem to know much about me" she replied to his speculation of her character in a tight voice. It was rather disconcerting knowing that this mysterious person understood her better than most others. Despite that, she still felt the absurd need to defend her lack of ambition. "Ruling the kingdoms is not some right I inherited at birth. It is a duty to be undertaken, and I don't possess the skills or desire to undertake it. The kingdoms would fare much better with a ruler who wished to govern over them."

Something strange flickered in Varys's eyes at her words, but the mysterious emotion was gone as swiftly as it had appeared. "A very noble thought" he told her with a gracious bow of his head. She was almost inclined to believe he was sincere in that compliment.

"Who do _you_ serve, Varys?" she asked him then, curious what the reply would be.

He thought about her question for a moment as if mulling over a safe response. "I serve the king, of course, my lady" he finally spoke.

His words caused her to come to a realization that had escaped her weary mind the previous evening. Since Joffrey's death, Little Tommen was now king. _Gods, he isn't fit for such a task_ she thought in pity when the boy's angelic face came to mind. "You serve Tommen then?" she asked for clarification to his statement.

Varys gave her another of those strangely veiled smiles. "Who else, my lady?"

Amarah noted in the back of her brain that his answer was hardly forthcoming. "There are many kings in this war, Lord Varys" she reminded him with a clever smile of her own.

"But I only serve the true king of the iron throne, my lady" he assured her. Without waiting for her reply, he then turned the torch in his hand to light the passageway before them once again and continued on as she was forced to fall in step with his quicker pace.

"We must not tarry, my lady. I am expected back at court" he explained the reason for their haste. "This matter with Lord Tyrion has caused quite a stir in the royal house."

His words brought Amarah's mind back to the little lord who sat wasting away in a prison cell for the murder of a king that others should most likely be thanking him for, if indeed he had performed the task himself. She didn't even have to ask Varys who it was that had charged Tyrion with the murder. Cersei would take any excuse to rid the world of the little monster brother that she hated so. From the tales Tryion had told Amarah about his family, she doubted whether Twyin Lannister's affections for his dwarf son surpassed Cersei's by much.

"Is there any hope he can acquit himself of the queen's charges?" Amarah asked, even while dreading the likely reply to such a request.

"There is little hope of that I fear" Varys replied giving her an almost sympathetic look.

Looking away from her once more, he continued on to the end of the passage, and the tense silence of strangers settled between them. Once they came to what looked like a dead end, Varys reached out to touch a stone in the wall similar to what he had done in Jaime's bedchamber, and another door swung open that led into a deserted back alley. Dousing the torch he held by pushing the lit end into the sand, Varys quicly disposed of it and gestured for her to follow him into the sunlight. She took the time to raise the hood of her cloak to shield her face before heading into the light.

Their current silence extended through the remainder of their journey to the back entrance of what, Amarah assumed, must have been the brothel that Varys told her about. She had never been there of course. Princesses did _not_ associate with whores, although it was perfectly acceptable for kings to do so. Amarah had never quite understood why that was.

She cautiously followed Varys's lead into a darkened stairwell at the back of the establishment, all the while fervently praying that she wouln't enter a room to find a host of soldiers waiting to cart her off to the queen. She had believed Jaime when he said he wanted to keep her safe, but she still didn't trust this spider. She would be ten kinds a fool to do so. Gripping tightly the little blade concealed in her small hand, Amarah was prepared for any unexpected surprises. She would most likely be no match for a band of trained soldiers, but she might be able to draw some blood in the process of attempting to escape.

To her immense relief, the only person standing in the small room they entered was a young dark skinned woman. She was very beautiful with eyes the color of sandalwood. Her most attractive feature to Amarah, however, was the fact that she was not a Lannister soldier. Giving Varys a skeptical gaze, she gradually accepted that he was indeed telling the truth about helping her. He seemed to sense her acceptance of his honest intentions with a shallow nod before turning to address the young woman who stood with them.

"Alayaya this is the young lady who will be left in your care" he told her before turning back to glance at Amarah. "Lady Amarah, if you are in need of anything, Alayaya will be able to accommodate you. Her mother Chataya has inherited the responsibilities of running this brothel in Lord Baelish's absence from the city. They have kindly agreed to house you here for the remainder of your stay in the capital."

After those brief words of introduction, the whispery eunuch quickly disappeared back down the stairwell through which they had entered the room. Amarah turned her gaze from where the eunuch had left to the quiet girl before her. Alayaya eyed her with an equally hesitant look, and they both stood in silence for a few moments evaluating each other. As Amarah's eyes scanned Alayaya's attire they landed on a gold medallion she wore about her neck. A medallion stamped with the lion seal of house Lannister.

Immediately tensing at the sight, Amarah tried to keep her voice even as she questioned the girl about her trinket. "Where did you get that medallion?"

The girl looked down to see what had caught Amarah's attention. When her eyes landed on the medallion, they darkened by the barest of degress. "It was a gift from Lord Tyrion in repayment of his father's treatment of me."

"Lord Tywin?" Amarah questioned consfused. _What in the seven hells would Tywin Lannister want with a whore?_ She had always heard Tyrion complaining to her how his father had never approved of his fondness for the purchased ladies' affections.

"Yes, my lady" Alayaya replied with a look shadowed by hurt before turning around to let Amarah's horrified gaze rest on her exposed back. Her dark skin was covered with a multitude of stripes laid on her bare skin by a soldier's whip.

"Why would Tywin Lannister want to hurt a whore?" Amarah couldn't stop the question that fell from her lips at the sight.

Alayaya turned around once again to meet Amarah's horrified gaze with a weary smile. "Because they thought I was Lord Tyrion's whore."

Amarah shook her dark head in disappointment at the Lannisters' predictable cruelty. "If it comforts you at all, Alayaya, they would most assuredly do worse to me if they knew I was in the city."

"Which is why I agreed to help you my lady" she replied with a kind smile. "Come now" she said adopting a more serious expression "we have work to do. If you play the part of a whore you must look one as well."

Amarah wasn't certain she liked the sound of that, but complied the young woman's instructions as she followed her to the canopied bed that dominated the large room. It was draped in luxurious silks from top to bottom and covered with rich furs. On top of the rich firs, lay a dress made of whisper thin silk. Amarah assumed the offering was for her. Turning her questioning gaze to the girl before her, she saw Alayaya gesture for her to remove her clothes confirming her suspicions that she was meant to wear that tiny slip of a dress.

As Alayaya helped her remove the roughspun wool, Amarah couldn't help but ask how far this charade extended. "You don't expect me to entertain men in this bedchamber do you?"

The girl behind her laughed at the question, her laugh falling on Amarah's ears like pleasant music. It had been too long since she had laughed herself. "Of course not, my lady" Alayaya answered with amusement present in her reply. "But if any of our customers catch a glimpse of you, they must not think anything amiss. That is why you must look like the rest of us."

Amarah sighed in relief at her assurance. She thought she heard Alayaya chuckle at the soft sound but couldn't be sure. Once her dress and shift were removed, Alayaya moved to take the silk dress from the bed and returned to slip the soft creation over Amarah's head. Once the dress was in place, Amarah noted that her thin night dress from the previous evening had felt like a more substantial covering to her generous figure. At the thought of last night, an brief image of Jaime bent over her, feasting on her skin, flashed through her mind causing a heated flush to cover her skin. Shaking off the pleasant memory, Amarah turned to see what Alayaya would require of her next.

The girl waved her to a dressing table with an ornate stool before it. Amarah took the seat indicated as Alayaya moved behind her to swiftly undo the hasty braid Amarah had woven into her hair that morning. Once Amarah's hair lay in curly waves down her back, Alayaya began working it into an elaborate style. It took several minutes of twisting and pulling before Alayaya was satisfied with the results. After Amarah's hair was finished, Alayaya moved to take a stick of khol from the table and softly traced the edge and corners of Amarah's eyes. Once that was done, she took some rouge as well and used that on Amarah's cheeks and lips.

Alayaya looked at her with a critical eye once the transformation was complete, and her sandalwood eyes lit with amusement. "I hope none of the customers _do_ catch a glance of you my lady, for it would be most difficult to explain why they would be denied the pleasure of your company."

Amarah smiled in response to the girl's amusement and turned to look at herself in the glass. "Gods be good" she murmured as she gazed at her reflection. Her grey eyes stood out even more now with the dark khol surrounding them, and her usually pale pink lips were stained a brazen shade of red. "I _do_ look like a whore."

She turned back to regard Alayaya then with a mischievous smile. "How much of a profit do you think I could turn?"

"Oh a tidy sum to be sure" the girl answered with a matching smile of mischief. "Have you ever been with a man, my lady?"

At the unexpected question, Amarah's face lit with heat as she remembered Jaime's touch. Alayaya misinterpreted Amarah's blush for confirmation of her request. "Was he a handsome man, my lady?"

"Oh he was very handsome" Amarah answered with a faint smile thinking of Jaime's golden beauty. "He was gentle as well though."

Alayaya's playful grin turned a bit softer at Amarah's words. "Gentleness is a rare thing in a man my lady."

Her words brought to mind a tale Aunt Catelyn had told Amarah of a proud boast made by the Lion of Lannister, and she gave into an amused smile at the thought. "Well, there are no men like him after all."

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_Next chapter we catch up with the man in question. Then we might just have a visit with a certain little lord:) Stay tuned! There's so much more to come:) Thanks so much for reading! Please review!_


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note:** _Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the long delay between chapters this time. I got a little distracted by the Olympics and used all my free time to watch sports instead of writing, but I will try to get up these next few chapters more quickly to make it up to ya'll for the long wait. So enjoy!_

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Jaime's temples throbbed as the blood in his viens pounded through his head in a frustrated rhythm. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to will away the ache in his head brought on by an aggravating encounter with his father. Tywin had once again tried to convince Jaime to give up his position on the king's guard, but as always Jaime had refused. Those encounters always ended the same, with Jaime feeling frustrated and angry while Tywin looked on with the disapproval of a disappointed father.

There were many reasons why Jaime refused to follow his father's wishes that he become the great lord of Casterly Rock and command and army of thousands to defend their family name. For many years the main reason had been Cersei as Jaime had wished to remain as close to her as possible, but things were different now. He didn't defy his father because he wished to stay close to Cersei. She had made it abundantly clear the evening before that she didn't care to have him near her in his altered condition.

He continued to buck against his father's will because his position in the capital gave him the power to control his own life. Be the soldier he always wanted to be without the weight of some family legacy hanging over his head. Jaime wanted to honor his family name, of course, but he didn't see why the whole affair should hinge on his willingness to throw off the golden cloak of the King's guard to return home to Casterly Rock. He was perfectly content to stay as he was, even if his father wasn't.

On top of the disappointing discussion regarding Jaime's unwillingness to resign as captain of the King's guard, his father had been none too pleased with Jaime's tale about the demise of the little princess Baratheon. When they had spoken last night he hadn't mentioned the affair to his father as he was more burdened with thoughts of his little brother, but Cersei had run to Tywin with the tale quickly enough. As Jaime had anticipated, his father had not been happy to be deprived of such a valuable asset to shift more power to the Lannister cause in this war of kings. Jaime could still see the thundercloud of anger that lurked in his father's dark gaze.

"_How could you have let this happen?" Tywing questioned him as if Amarah's supposed death were somehow Jaime's fault._

_Instead of giving into the urge to defend himself, Jaime leaned back to regard his father with a look of lazy insolence. "I could hardly have anticipated that she would slit her own wrists now could I, Father? I've not the great power of foresight after all."_

_Tywin shot him a disapproving frown over that response. "Don't be clever with me, boy. You should have brought her to me alive. She's no use to us dead. We could have married her to one of the endless Lannister relations to keep her and any followers of the Stag house in line. Now we have nothing but a dead girl and her supporters scattered to the wind."_

"_If she wasn't dead already, father, I'm certain she would be before marrying one of my stupid Frey cousins" Jaime offered with a careless wave of his hand. He shouldn't have pushed his father, but he couldn't seem to help it. He always said too much sometimes in an effort to prod others with his words, sometimes even his own father._

_The look on Tywin's face said he was less than amused with Jaime's observation. "I think you overestimate the will of a woman. You're sister did as she was told when she married Robert Baratheon. No matter her reputed stubbornness, that little Stag would have done the same."_

_Jaime was tempted to smile at his father's assessment of Amarah's supposed biddable nature. He kept the smile at bay though in an effort not to goad his father's temper any further. "I'm certain you are right, Father. She would no doubt be as willing as any bride forced to marry a stupid man" he said with a smirk before rising with a swift bow to indicate he was finished with their discussion. His father stopped him with a quick word before he could turn to go. He wanted to give him a gift._

Jaime was pulled from the memory as he gazed at the gift in his hand. It glinted in the afternoon sun mocking him in its perfection. Tywin's gift to Jaime had been a sword forged from the Varlyian steel of the blade that had once belonged to Ned Stark. Now the power of that family lay with House Lannister as evidenced by the sword that now rested in Jaime's palm. Jaime caught sight of his scowling expression in the shiny surface of the blade. What use was such a gift to a cripple? Tywin had known what a blow it would be to his son's now fragil self-esteem to give him a gift fit for the man Jaime used to be. Now, the sword was as useless in his hand as Jaime was himself.

His gaze turned away from the dreary reflection in his sword as he heard the sound of someone entering his domain. After his conversation with his father, Jaime had retreated into his solar where he spent his hours when he desired to be alone. Any other time he would have ordered whoever it was to leave him in peace, but at the present moment he would welcome any distraction to rescue him from sinking into the dark mire of self-pity once again.

As his gaze rose to meet the veiled smile of Varys, he was even more receptive to the interruption. He quickly put away the heavy sword in his hand before addressing the eunuch. "I trust you've succeeded in granting my request?" he asked with a half-smile that wavered between friendly and hostile.

Vary's returned his Jaime's request with a nod of confirmation. "Indeed I have, my lord. The lady will be very safely cared for."

The thought of Amarah in a whore house brought an unexpected smile of amusement to Jaime's lips. "I trust she's settling in?"

"As well as can be expected, my lord" Varys answered. "She seemed well enough when I left her."

"She'll do better there than she would in this keep" Jaime said with a grim frown recalling his father's plans for the girl. Better she live with the whores than become one herself all for the sake of his family's ambition.

"Your concern for the lady is rather a surprise" Varys said in his sly whispery tone, breaking into Jaime's thoughts of Amarah. "Neither of you seemed to hold too high an opinion of the other before this."

Jaime gave the eunuch a threatening smile that indicated his displeasure at Varys's curiosity at the the relationship between himself and the princess. "As you said, Varys, many surprising alliances are formed in times of war and struggle." Jaime gave a hard look then that indicated that he would say no more on the matter. "In three day's time I will require to see her again. I'm sure you can accommodate such a reasonable request." Three days would give Jaime enough time to discover what he could about Amarah's missing cousin.

Varys's enigmatic expression slipped just slightly to reveal his displeasure at arranging a clandestine meeting between Jaime and the hidden princess, but he took care not to voice it, instead giving another of those veiled smiles. "I'm certain that can be arranged, Ser Jaime. However, her request to see Lord Tryion might not be as easy to fulfill. He has been moved to a tower cell and will remain under constant guard during the trial of King Joffrey's murder."

Varys's reminder of Tyrion's imprisonment brought a dark scowl to Jaime's face. That was yet another matter that would require his attention. "I'll discuss it with her" he assured the eunuch. "Just have her in my chambers at the requested time. Now I will bid you a good day. There is someone else I need to see."

Varys returned Jaime's dismissal with a brief nod of farewell before quickly exiting the solar. Jaime waited a few moments until after Varys's departure to make his own exit. The mention of Tyrion in a tower under guard brought to mind another person who was currently rotting away in seclusion under Jaime's orders. He would need to release the creature so she could be free to train with the men. She would need to regain her strength if he was going to allow her to accompany Amarah on the journey to find the missing Stark girl. As Amarah had proved, she had no skill in defending herself with a blade. Jaime still remembered her foolishness in killing that guard without even watching to see where she had struck him. He could still remember the rush of horror that she would miss the ugly son-of-a-bitch entirely and get them both killed. Amarah would be in dire need of decent protection once she left the city, and Brienne of Tarth was the only one that could be trusted to help her.

It was safe to release the wench now as Jaime had spoken to Loras Tyrell that morning to knock some sense into the boy's thick skull. Loras knew that Brienne of Tarth hadn't killed Renly Baratheon. Even Jaime could see the wench thought she was in love with the dead man, and he had barely held a civil conversation with her. Loras had seen her with his dead king and knew the truth, even if he was reluctant to admit it. He had only wanted someone to strike out against as the true culprit behind Renly's death was out of his vengeful reach. Jaime was in no mood to deal with the boy's petulance. He had informed Loras that Brienne of Tarth would be free to roam the halls of this keep and there was naught the boy could do about it. If he didn't like it then he was welcome to leave the King's Guard. Not surprisingly, Loras had opted to accept Jaime's decision, though he made it clear he didn't like it. Jaime made it equally clear he didn't care.

After a short while he finally came to the tower room that was housing Amarah's lady knight. Jaime told the guards before the door they were relieved of duty before entering the room that housed the wench. When he entered he saw her pacing around the room like an agitated animal rearing to leave its cage. The moment she saw him standing there, the agitation in her eyes was replaced by anger as she let out a furious roar and marched toward him before grabbing him by the collar of his tunic and slamming his body against the stone wall. Jaime was too stunned by her actions for a few moments to give any type of reaction. After he recovered the breath she had knocked from his body he gave her a dangerous glare before shoving her away. He might not have his hand, but he still had more strength than her, and he didn't plan to let the wench throw him around when she was in a fit of temper.

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish by smashing my skull against a wall, wench?" he asked her with that dangerous glare still in his flashing green eyes.

The anger in her eyes more than matched his as she ignored his sarcastic question. "Where is my lady, Kinglsayer?"

_So that's why she is in such a rage_ Jaime noted, forgiving her a bit for the show of temper. Despite her ugliness and boring conversation she was a good knight. "Your lady is safely hidden away" he replied in a much calmer voice than before.

Brienne sneered at his reassurance, making it clear she didn't trust him. "Why should I believe what you say?"

"I see no reason why you should" Jaime answered with an unconcerned shrug. "But tell me this, wench. What reason could I possibly have to lie to you? If I had Amarah thrown into a cell bound hand and foot, I could simply leave you here in this room to rot before I chopped that ugly head from off your shoulders. As it is, I'm releasing you from your confinement to move about the keep as you wish. You'll have to regain your strength by training with my men. They won't like it of course, but I'm certain you've dealt with such resistance before."

Throughout Jaime's little speech, Brienne continued to eye him with a wary gaze, but once he finished speaking some of the wariness had been replaced by confusion. Jaime supposed that emotion was better than the anger she had before. "Why are you helping us, Kingslayer?"

Jaime tried to still the frustrated grinding of his teeth at that title but didn't fully succeed. The action reminded him of Amarah's fascination with that spot on his jaw where the angry tick showed testifying to his annoyance. He quickly rid himself of the distracting notion and turned his full attention on the ugly wench before him. "I'm helping _her_, wench, not you. I plan to let her leave this city, but she will need you for protection. You can't very well protect the girl while being locked away in this room."

"You plan to release us?" Brienn asked, the wariness in her gaze once again. "My lady has no where to go."

The words reminded Jaime of Amarah's mournful realization the evening before. "She has a purpose though, to find her cousin Sansa Stark. You will help her do this."

In Jaime's mind their conversation was now finished as he had informed her of Amarah's fate and given the wench her freedom. He turned to leave her when she stopped him with the sound of her voice.

"You care for her, Kingslayer." It wasn't so much the words as the astonishment behind them that caused him to turn back and face her once again. Brienne wasn't accusing him now. As he swung around to regard her with a cynical smile, he was struck by the shock in those big, blue eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue to refute her claim that he cared for Amarah, but something made him hold back the stinging reply. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was some truth in the wench's words.

Instead he just gave her another of his cutting smiles before turning back once again to leave her. "Make use of your freedom, wench. Your lady will need you at your best."

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_So there it is! I hope it was worth the wait:) We'll have to wait a bit longer to meet with Tyrion, but in the meantime we'll get some more Jaime/Amarah interaction. I hope that can tide ya'll over till we see the little lord. Please review! Thanks for reading!_


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: **_Thanks as always for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I meant to put this chapter up days ago, but just couldn't find the time to finish it. I finally got it done though, and I made it a bit longer with a little bit of lovin' thrown in to make up for the long wait. Hope you enjoy it!_

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It had been three days. Three days without any word from Jaime, and Amarah was beginning to grow rather anxious. When he had told her she would remain in the city a little while longer while he investigated the disappearance of Sansa Stark, she had assumed things would move a bit more quickly. However, it appeared she had been mistaken in that regard.

Alayaya had proven most considerate and helpful as she looked after Amarah's needs while she stayed at the brothel. However, despite Alayaya and her mother Chataya's kindness, Amarah was growing weary of being shut away in this room. At first she had been allowed to wander the upper floors of the brothel until one of their customers caught a glimpse of her and demanded the right to her bed.

It had been rather difficult for Chataya to convince him into purchasing another whore for the night. Amarah had been told that the man was Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. She had heard wild stories about the man from others at court, and from the looks of him he was every bit as dangerous and sensual as the stories told. He had a devilish handsomeness about him, but Amarah wasn't the least bit tempted to indulge his wishes to bed her. It seemed only golden beauty was capable of tempting her into sin. In the end, the prince had finally been convinced to lay with Alayaya and another whore who resembled Amarah in coloring with her dark hair and pale skin.

Amarah had been equally appalled and intrigued by Alayaya's tale that a man could take two women at once. Such a thing had never crossed Amarah's mind, and she couldn't resist asking the girl about the experience. Being hidden away in a brothel had exposed Amarah to a side of life that she had previously been ignorant of. Of course she had been aware of pleasure and the ways between a woman and a man, but she had never been in a place so wholly dedicated to the art of perfecting pleasure. It filled her mind with endless questions about what went on in such a place as this, and Alayaya had no hesitation in satisfying Amarah's curiosity.

"Oh a man can take two women at once, my lady" Alayaya answered Amarah's inquiry about the Prince of Dorne. "In fact sometimes he likes to take more than two. Once we had a man purchase ten whores for the evening to attend him."

Amarah's shock must have shown on her face for Alayaya gave on of her musical laughs before continuing on. "You look rather terrified. It can be a pleasant experience for us as well sometimes." Her face took on a wicked grin of secret delights before she continued on. "Prince Oberyn Martell knows how to take the pleasure _and_ give it, my lady. Perhaps you should have taken the offer he extended."

"I prefer to keep my knees together, thank you" Amarah replied with a haughty tilt of her head at the girl's suggestion, but her comment was quickly followed by a perplexed frown. "Doesn't it bother you at all to let these men use you in such a way? Would you not rather have a man make love to you who cares for your needs above his own?"

A dim sadness settled over Alayaya's expression at Amarah's questions. "I don't 'make love', my lady. I'm a whore. We are paid to fuck, nothing more than that. The men who purchase our services aren't interested in our affections."

"And you are happy here?" Amarah couldn't hold back the question as it sprung from her lips.

Alayaya thought about the question for a moment before shrugging her shoulders in nonchalant acceptance of the circumstances. "I'm happy enough I suppose. I've never known any life other than this."

Amarah considered that revelation rather to be rather depressing, but kept the thought to herself. She doubted Alayaya would appreciate her sympathy. The girl's honest words however opened Amarah's eyes to the truth of this place. There was pleasure humming in the air around them, but it was all a beautiful allusion. There might be sensual delights to be found here, but no true happiness. As these thoughts drifted through her mind she thought of Jaime's face.

He had given her pleasure, but it wasn't the kind to be found within the walls of this place. What had occurred between them had been different. It had been something more than the mere exchange of pleasure. Amarah was still puzzling over the unexpected thought when she heard the secret passageway in the wall behind her make a scraping noise as it slid open. Looking up in surprise, she met the enigmatic gaze of Varys.

He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement before turning to glance at her companion. "I shall require your guest's company for a short while, Alayaya. I will return her to you later."

"Of course, Lord Varys" the girl answered him before turning to leave. She gave Amarah a brief smile of farewell before she was gone.

Amarah moved her gaze from the doorway where Alayaya had disappeared to the eunuch before her. "Are you taking me to see Ser Jaime?"

"Yes, my lady, but we must hurry."

She obeyed his prompting for haste by swiftly retrieving her cloak and slipping it over the nearly transparent gown she wore. After lifting the hood to conceal her painted face, she followed Varys's lead into the dark stairwell leading out of the brothel. Their trip to the red keep was much quieter than their previous one together. Amarah had too many thoughts running through her head to make conversation with the mysterious figure beside her, and he seemed inclined to remain silent as well.

As they traveled through the darkness of the night, Amarah's mind drifted to the purpose of Jaime's meeting with her. She assumed it was to discuss the whereabouts of her missing cousin. Amarah had given the matter a great deal of thought, but couldn't think of a single place where the girl might have gone to. The North was lost to the Starks along with their family seat of Winterfell. There was simply no where Sansa could have run to. Even despite the lack of safe haven, Amarah could not think of anyone in court who would have helped Sansa escape, for it was doubtful that the young wolf could have orchestrated such a thing on her own. Amarah racked her brain for a possible solution to Sansa's mysterious disappearance, but was unable to produce a sensible answer. She prayed to the seven that Jaime had been more successful than her in determining where her cousin had gone. If not, she feared the task of finding Sansa would prove to be nearly impossible.

After a short while, Varys had finally led Amarah back to the secret passageway that led to Jaime's chambers. It didn't take long for them to finally reach the end of the dark passage before Varys found the hidden stone in the wall that opened it, flooding the passageway with light. He stepped into the room first, and Amarah followed cautiously behind him. When they entered the room, she found Jaime sitting in front of a blazing fire in the hearth that filled the place with blessed warmth. Jaime turned as they entered and ignored Varys in favor of keeping his gaze solely on Amarah. She gave a quick glance around the room to ensure that it was empty before reaching up to remove the hood that concealed her face.

She was puzzled for a moment at the startled expression in his green eyes before she recalled her altered appearance. Tamping down a laugh of amusement at his reaction, she returned his look of surprise with a saucy smile before walking to the window a short distance from where he sat and plopping herself down on the ledge before it. His sharp gaze followed her every moment, and they both seemed to forget about Varys's presence before he cleared his throat lightly as if to remind them that he was still there.

"I shall wait just outside" he said once regaining their attention, gesturing to the closed door of Jaime's chamber. "Once you are finished discussing whatever needs to be said, I will escort Lady Amarah back."

With these words he silently exited the chamber leaving them alone together. Once Varys was gone, Jaime returned his glittering gaze to where Amarah sat and left his place before the fire to slowly approach her. She felt her pulse leap a bit as he came nearer, and scolded herself silently for the reaction. Despite the silent reprimand, she couldn't prevent the warm contentment that seeped through to her bones at having him so near once again.

She tried to tell herself that the strange reaction stemmed from her relief at seeing a familiar face once again, but she knew it was something else. She was just happy to see _him_. Amarah wouldn't admit the truth aloud with her dying breath, but she had missed having him near her these past three days. She had come to rely on him more than she realized. It was dangerous, letting herself depend on him in such a way, but she couldn't seem to help it.

Jaime spoke not a word as the tumult of thoughts raged through Amarah's mind. He came close enough to her then for her to feel the warm heat of his skin before he raised his left hand to lightly caress her painted face. Amarah wondered if he might kiss her, but after gazing at her for a few moments of heated silence between them, Jaime slowly removed his hand and moved away from her a few paces. As he continued to stare at her with that strange look in his eye, Amarah began to feel rather self-conscious about her appearance. Thank the seven she had the foresight to keep her warm cloak wrapped about her shoulders. Judging by the strange look in his eye at her painted face, she didn't wish to see his reaction to the rest of her costume.

"Did you wish to speak with me about something or have you lost the power of speech since we last parted?" she finally asked irritably when he still remained silent.

Her words seemed to snap him out of some strange trance before he gave his head a slight shake as if to clear his thoughts before answering her. "I've done some looking into the matter of your cousin."

"What have you found out?" Amarah asked anxiously forgetting about the slight awkwardness between them moments before.

Jaime gave her a wry look then that heralded only bad news. "Nothing too helpful I'm afraid. It seems she disappeared immediately after Joffrey's wedding feast, but no one knows anything about where she would have gone to. She had no allies in court that anyone knows of which makes determining her whereabouts rather difficult."

"What about Tyrion?" Amarah pressed him, trying to hide her disappointment at his news. "Surely he must know something about where she disappeared to. He was married to her after all."

"Because you imagine wives always confide in their husbands, Princess?" Jaime asked her then with an amused glint in his eye.

She returned his comment with a dark scowl that only seemed to amuse him further. "Some wives confide in their husbands. Not everyone has some dark secret to hide like the queen."

The amusement in Jaime's eyes quickly faded at her reminder of his sister. Amarah longed to ask him what had happened between them since his return to the city, but held the urge in check. She didn't want him to assume the reason for her curiosity was that she desired him for herself. She did desire him of course, she could no longer deny the fact, but she didn't want him to know he held that kind of power over her.

Jaime gave her a speculative gaze over the comment about Cersei but surprised her by ignoring it entirely. "Despite your high opinion of marriage, Princess, no doubt Tyrion's was a rather cheerless one. Even if I was able to see him to ask about Sansa Stark, he would likely have no information that would be helpful to you."

His last statement about Tyrion piqued Amarah's curiosity. "What do you mean _if_ you were able to see him?"

"He's been locked away in the tower under close guard" Jaime answered with a resigned sigh. "The trial hasn't gone well. My sweet sister has produced several witnesses to testify that Tyrion was the one to poison the king."

Amarah's eyes widened in alarm at this news. "Is there nothing you can do for him?"

"Unfortunately, no" Jaime said shaking his golden head in disgust. "Tyrion has called for trial by combat, but I'm of no help to him there." He held up his stump as testament to that statement. "He's somehow convinced the Viper to defend his honor against Gregor Clegane."

"Oberyn Martell?" Amarah questioned remembering the man's face. She had heard how great a warrior he was, but doubted the man's ability to defeat someone like Gregor Clegane. Cersie had been clever in picking the Mountain to be her champion. It would likely discourage anyone from agreeing to champion Tyrion's cause, but somehow the little lord had convinced the Dornish prince to do so.

Once Jaime heard the prince's name on Amarah's lips, his brows narrowed together in a speculative gaze. "How do you know of the man? I don't recall mentioning to you he was in the city."

"He came to the brothel two nights ago" Amarah supplied the answer with a careless wave of her hand. "He caught of a glimpse of me roaming the halls and wanted to buy my company for the evening. The man seems to have an insatiable appetite for fucking."

After she had finished speaking, Amarah was startled to notice a spark of anger flash in Jaime's eyes. "Did you let him touch you?"

Amarah was a bit taken aback by the sharp anger that laced his tone. "Of course not" she defended herself with an angry scowl to match his. "I'm not as depraved as you after all."

Jaime's look of anger only darkened further at her words. Taking her instantly off guard, he swiftly approached her with dangerous intent before wrapping his good arm around her waist and yanking her up too him until she was pressed securely against his hard form. "You think I'm depraved, Princess?" he whispered hotly in her ear, making her shiver at the feel of his warm breath tickling her skin.

She stubbornly fought the sensual pull he held over her as she tried to retain her indignant anger over his earlier comment. "Aren't you?" she returned the question before shoving at him with both hands in an effort to remove herself from his tight grasp. Despite her best efforts, she only succeeded in shoving him away for a moment before he grabbed at her once again, pulling her to him more forcefully than before. In her struggle to get away, the cloak around her shoulders fell to the floor, leaving Amarah with only a thin layer of silk between her and his burning gaze.

Jaime took a moment to look over her appearance before raising his eyes to meet hers once more. "Perhaps I am depraved" he whispered again, moving his left hand to trail up and down the thin silk covering her skin from her waist to her breasts while keeping his right arm securely fastened around her waist. "I'd like nothing more than to throw you to the ground and bury my cock inside you."

Amarah was struck by another of those delicious tremors at his wicked words, but she tried valiantly to fight it. "We're not lovers" she reminded him. She tried to sound stern to recall him back to sanity, but it came out sounding more like a breathless plea.

"No" Jaime agreed with a dangerous smile. "We are not."

He contradicted that statement by slowly moving his lips to her exposed skin and trailing soft kisses up the tight cord of her neck to her jaw. His actions reminded Amarah of what had occurred between them several nights ago, and her hot skin heated even further at the thought. _I can't let him do this_ she thought even as his mouth moved closer to hers. The intensity between them frightened her, but she couldn't seem to summon the will of mind to stop him.

"Jaime, no…" she tried weakly to shove him away once again, but his mouth quickly swallowed the words of protest.

Once his mouth covered hers, Amarah couldn't stop the natural instinct to wind her arms around his neck while he slowly made love to her mouth. His tongue demanded entrance and she willingly gave it to him. Jaime's kisses were just as intoxicating as she remembered. As he continued to intertwine his skillful tongue with hers, Amarah felt herself melt even further into his secure embrace. After a few moments of heady bliss in his arms, her fog of passion was quickly pierced by the feel of his hand firmly cupping her breast through the thin silk of her dress. The touch reminded Amarah why she couldn't allow for this kind of intimacy between them. It would be difficult enough for her to leave him now. She couldn't make it even more painful for herself by letting him make love to her. She was tired of losing people so precious to her, and she couldn't allow this man too close to her heart. So she summoned every ounce of will to hold him at bay. Resisting the overwhelming impulse to let him have his way with her, Amarah abruptly spun out of his embrace taking Jaime by surprise.

After she left his arms, the look of passion that clouded Jaime's eyes was abruptly replaced by irritation. He started towards her once again, but Amarah held him off by raising her hand in a silent order for him to keep his distance. To her surprise, he obeyed the request and stopped before coming any closer. They both eyed each other a bit warily for several moments before Amarah voice finally broke the strained silence.

"I can't" was all the excuse she offered with a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

Jaime didn't prod her for any further explanation though. Instead, he bent to the ground to retrieve her fallen cloak before slowly approaching her once again as if she were a frightened animal. Once he was certain she wouldn't dart away from him in fear, he unfolded the rumpled cloak and placed it around her shoulders once again. "If you don't want me touching you, Princess, then you had better cover the merchandise" he said with the faint smile touching his lips.

Amarah felt a smile grow on her face in response to his quip. "It's just as well" she said with an exaggerated sigh. "My fee _is_ rather high. We whores can't afford to give our favors for free."

"I have a lot of gold" Jaime reminded her with a gleam of amusement in those green eyes once again.

"Your _father_ has a lot of gold" Amarah reminded him before turning away to return to her ledge by the window. Jaime stayed where he was this time as she retreated. "The whole kingdom knows Tywin Lannister doesn't approve of his imp son spending the family gold on whores."

Her statement caused a slight frown to flicker across Jaime's face. "They brought one of Tyrion's whores to testify against him in the trial."

"Seven hells" Amarah muttered in disgust. "Tyrion's greatest weakness has always been his desire to be loved. I suppose he thought he could purchase the affection, but it's come back to haunt him."

"The girl's testimony hardly matters now" Jaime quickly waved off Amarah's concern for Tyrion. "His fate lies with the Viper."

"Do you actually think Oberyn Martell has a chance of beating Clegane?" Amarah asked him.

"Perhaps" was all the reply Jaime could offer. "I've never fought the man, but Clegane has more strength than skill. That might give Martell a chance of defeating him if he's smart about it."

"He didn't _look_ stupid" Amarah offered hopefully.

Jaime gave a wry laugh at her comment. "I've met many a knight who didn't appear stupid at first glance. He'll have as good a chance as any of defeating Clegane though. I would suggest you say a prayer for my little brother if you think the gods can help. He could probably use it."

"The gods don't seem to have heard my prayers of late" Amarah murmured at his suggestion.

Jaime returned her comment with a gentle smile. "They don't seem to hear mine either, Princess. No matter how hard I pray, they don't give me the new hand I ask for."

Amarah couldn't help but smile at his comment. "You don't pray to the gods" she accused with a soft laugh. "You'll just have to make the hand yourself."

"How would I do that?" he asked then, eyeing her with a speculative gaze.

"I'm certain you'll think of something" she said, recalling a similar conversation they had in the baths soon after Jaime had lost his hand. "You can retrain yourself to fight with the left hand I'm sure. You'll probably have more skill with only your left than most knights who possess both hands."

"Your confidence in my skill is most appreciated" Jaime replied in a condescending tone that indicated he didn't share her opinion of his chance at regaining his previous skills.

All this talk of knights reminded Amarah of her own knight who had been carted away to a tower cell the last time she'd seen her. "Speaking of skill with a sword, where is Brienne? Surely you haven't kept her locked away all this time."

"The thought was tempting, but, no, I haven't kept the stupid wench locked away. I released her the morning you left the keep. She's been training with my men. She'll be ready to leave with you when the time comes."

Amarah's smile melted away at his reminder of the journey she was meant to take with Brienne. "When will that time be might I ask?"

"After this matter with Tyrion has been cleared up and I've discovered more about your cousin's whereabouts" Jaime replied. "Though I don't think he would have much to tell, it would be helpful if we could question him first before you depart."

Amarah nodded her head in understanding before she rose from her seat indicating that she was ready to leave him. "I'll await your next summons then" she said with a mock curtsey before him.

Jaime took her by surprise then by suddenly stepping towards her and yanking her up by the shoulders to meet his hard mouth. It wasn't a thorough kiss like the one before, but it was enough to make her knees a bit weak. After a few moments, Jaime broke the brief kiss with a satisfied smirk that pricked Amarah's temper, and he made certain to quickly move out of her reach before she could reach up to smack that look off his handsome face.

Amarah had to content herself with simply glaring at his retreating back as he opened the door to summon Varys. When the eunuch reentered the room, he said nothing but simply walked to the spot on the wall where the door swung open to reveal the secret passage. He stepped into the darkness and waited silently for Amarah to join him. She looked back to Jaime for a brief moment before entering the dark passage.

"I'll find some way for you to speak to Tyrion" he assured her, correctly guessing her hesitancy to leave him.

She gave a brief nod of her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you."

With these words, she turned and left him to enter the passageway with Varys. Before leaving, she turned back once more to look at Jaime and held the glittering, green gaze until the stone door slid shut, blocking him from view.

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_So there it is! Next chapter we'll probably meet up with Tyrion:) Let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!_


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: **_So so_ _so sorry for the super long delay with this chapter. I just went back to work a few weeks ago and teaching takes up A LOT of my time, especially at the beginning of the school year. I won't be able to update as much as I did during the summer when I wasn't working, but I do promise to keep updating this story as often as I can. I'll be honest though that the updates will probably be down to about one or two a week for now as I am still spending a lot of time working on school stuff. I'm really sorry that it won't be as fast as before, but just know I haven't abandoned you all or my story. It will just be a little bit more of a wait now for the new chapters. That long-winded explanation for my tardiness aside, enjoy the new update! :)_

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Despite Amarah's optimistic prediction, it seemed that Oberyn Martell _had _been a fool after all. Jaime frowned at the thought of the Viper's stupidity as he quietly descended a deserted stairway that led to the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. If it hadn't been for Martell's foolishness, Tyrion could have been sitting in a brothel guzzling wine and whoring the hours away as he celebrated his newfound freedom. Instead, he was rotting away in a prison cell awaiting his execution.

Jaime gritted his teeth in annoyance as he pondered how easily this unpleasantness could have been avoided. If Martell had just finished Clegane when he had the chance! But the vile snake had inexplicably chosen to torture the hulking mass of a man with his poison tipped sword until Clegane managed to gather enough strength to smash his iron fist into the Viper's smug face. _Stupid fool!_ Jaime inwardly groused as he remembered the unwelcome sight. Martell had been the better fighter. He should have won. It could have been so simple for Tyrion to leave the keep a free man, but things were never simple in this damned place. Jaime should have known better by now.

So instead of raising a goblet of wine to his brother in mutual celebration of his release, Jaime now crept through the darkness of the keep to meet him in secret. Although Jaime did have plans to release Tyrion from his hellish prison, escape was not the purpose of this particular visit. This night Jaime meant to fulfill a promise.

He hadn't laid eyes on Amarah since their secret meeting in his chambers several nights ago, but she still weighed heavily on his mind. Every day she stayed in this city increased the chance of Tywin or Cersei discovering Jaime's lie. Jaime knew he had to send her away, but his protective instincts where she was concerned inwardly rebelled against the thought. The sensible portion of his mind reasoned that sending Amarah on her way with the wench was best for the girl, but that small irrational part of him had delayed giving the order for her to leave. Because he knew if she left this city, she left him as well, and the unwelcome thought prodded painfully at him like a sharp-tipped lance. Somehow Amarah had managed to touch his damaged, broken soul. Despite Jaime's best intention to keep her at bay, she had maneuvered her way past his defenses and into his black heart.

Jaime abruptly shook his golden head in disgust at the sentimental notion. He was acting more the fool than Oberyn Martell where Amarah was concerned. Jaime made up his mind then and there to send her away as soon as this promise was fulfilled. His debt to her would be paid after this night, and they would be done with each other. He stubbornly ignored a painful prick of regret at the thought, and continued resolutely through the darkness.

In order to better avoid detection, Varys would bring Amarah directly to the dungeons to meet with Tyrion rather than Jaime escorting her. A woman in the company of Varys was common enough as he had many people in his service throughout the palace, but Jaime Lannister in the company of any woman other than his beloved sister would be certain to draw unwanted attention. In view of this sound logic, Jaime had readily agreed to the plan.

Once he had finally reached the dungeons, Jaime was surprised to note that the guard on duty was slumped unconscious next to the large door that blocked the prisoners from the view of those outside the cells. Leaning down, Jaime felt his fleshy neck for a pulse, a task which was made more difficult by the amount of skin covering the large brute's neck, but he eventually found a faint pulse beating under his searching fingers. Jaime had no doubt that Varys had orchestrated the guard's timely rest, but not being a man to question his good fortune, Jaime promptly retrieved the key from the sleeping man's closed fist and proceeded to open the shut door.

Once inside, Jaime lit a torch to scatter bits of light through the shadowy prison. After his eyes had adjusted to the dim surroundings, he began his search for Tyrion. While he searched, Jaime noticed that a good number of the cells remained mostly empty. With a disgruntled frown, he noted that his family must have taken care these past weeks to place their all efforts of execution and imprisonment solely on his brother.

As Jaime continued to scan the cells for any sign of life, he caught the welcome sound of his brother's mocking voice. "Guard! Have you come with that whore I requested? I might be a man destined for death but I'm still a rich one till I draw my last breath so why not leave this world in the most pleasant way possible?"

"I've been called many things, brother" Jaime's voice cut through the dark stillness. "But whore is a title even the bravest of men have not ventured yet."

"Jaime?" Tyrion's voice had lost all trace of mockery now.

Jaime then maneuvered his way through the darkness until he found the source of the question. "That is a name I am more familiar with."

As Jaime raised the torch to study Tyrion's face, he had to school his features into an impassive mask not to react to the sight of the small man's face. Tyrion had never been called handsome, in fact the word "hideous" was most often employed to describe his appearance, but now his ugly face bore a deep, craggy scar that stretched from the lower corner of his mouth to the top part of his skull. Jaime had heard tales of Tyrion's bravery in the battle against Stannis Baratheon, but had never been able to grasp the reality of it. Now with the mark of Tyrion's bravery staring him in the face, Jaime allowed a small smile of respect to grace his features.

"You did well to save this city, brother."

If the compliment had come from any other, Tyrion would have instantly doubted the sincerity behind it, but he knew his brother. "You are one of few who share that sentiment."

Jaime lifted his brows in a superior expression at Tyrion's words. "Then fuck the rest."

"To get out of this place, I would fuck a horse" Tyrion sighed as he leaned away from the light of Jaime's torch to prop his misshapen body against the rough, stone wall. "What, might I ask, has prompted this visit in the latest hours of the night, my dear brother? Some delayed sense of familial duty."

Jaime gave a small grimace at Tyrion's reminder of his absence until this point. If Jaime hadn't been so preoccupied with the welfare of another, he could have more readily seen to taking care of Tyrion. He opened his mouth to defend his actions, but his words were immediately cut off before they even began.

"I fear that I to blame for Ser Jaime's neglect."

Both men then turned to look at the speaker who stood in the doorway that Jaime had passed through moments before, her face hidden behind the shadows in the hood of her cloak. Amarah moved towards them slowly, ensuring that they were truly alone before she removed the protective covering. Jaime noted that her appearance still bore the mark of the brothel he had hidden her in. Her delectable mouth looked blatantly sinful with that red paint decorating her soft lips, and her woolen cloak parted slightly to reveal another of those tempting silken creations that wrapped around her figure like a beckoning temptation to helpless men. Jaime remembered his reaction to her appearance in his chamber the last time they had met and doubted the whores were suffering for business if they looked half as appealing in those wisps of clothing as Amarah did.

"Circumstances must be more difficult for you in these times than I had imagined" Tyrion voice broke into Jaime's lustful thoughs. Jaime noted from the return of the mocking humor in his brother's tone, that Tyrion was less affected by the princess's appearance than he.

Amarah's gray gaze flittered quickly over Jaime before she turned her full attention to Tyrion with a sympathetic smile on those red lips. "From the look of things, I would venture to say I've been more fortunate in my circumstances than you" she answered before approaching the iron bars that separated her from Tryion.

Jaime noticed that Tyrion attempted to scoot a bit further from the light once she came nearer to him. "Don't look too closely, my little friend, or you'll see just how much of a monster I've become."

Amarah ignored the self-pitying comment by stooping down to her knees and reaching through the bars to caress his scarred face. Jaime noticed that Tyrion looked as if he wanted to move away, but reluctantly allowed her the gentle touch. "I don't see a monster" Amarah said in the same soothing voice that a mother would use with her petulant child. "All I see is a man with a scar."

Jaime almost imagined he could see an unshed tear glistening in Tyrion's eye as she trailed her delicate fingers across his ravaged face, but the illusion was quickly gone in the flickering light. "Well most still see the monster, my dear. Though I appreciate your attempt to soothe my pride."

Amarah's gaze narrowed a bit at Tyrion's flippant words. "That was not a very kind thing to say."

Tyrion shrugged unconcernedly at her reprimand. "I'm not a very kind man."

"No" Amarah admitted with a reluctant laugh. "I suppose not, but I like you all the same."

"How fortunate I am for that" Tyrion said in that same teasing voice, but Jaime could detect a hint of sincerity as well.

"There's no need to pity yourself so much, you know" Amarah informed Tyrion then, returning to her motherly tone. "Jaime will somehow manage to get you out of this wretched place before Cersei orders her soldiers to cut off your head."

Tyrion briefly moved his gaze back to Jaime after Amarah's reassuring words, and something in that gaze made Jaime a feel a niggling sense of apprehension. It was the same look Tyrion would give Jaime when they were children after he had discovered some bit of mischief that Jaime had gotten into and held the knowledge over his head for days with the threat of revealing it to their unforgiving father. That look has always made Jaime uneasy.

Tyrion studied Jaime for a few moments longer before turning his attention back to the girl before him. "Ned Stark wasn't able to cheat death. What makes you think I can?"

"My uncle had no one to help him" Amarah responded in a sensible tone. "You do."

"Your faith in my brother's ability astounds me" Tyrion said then with that superior smile he often wore when he felt as if he had suddenly gained the upper hand in a conversation. "Did you not once tell me he had shit for honor and you wanted nothing to do with him? Yet here you both are."

Jaime wondered if Amarah might respond to Tyrion's mockery with a rare show of temper, but she managed to surprise him by returning Tyrion's superior smile with one of her own. "I think it fair to say I've managed to appreciate your brother's finer qualities since we've last parted."

Tyrion's brows rose in questioning surprise at her statement. "What could have happened to so vastly improved your less than complimentary opinion of my dear brother since we last parted?"

Amarah didn't immediately answer Tyrion's question as she took a moment to look Jaime over with a mischievous expression in those pretty, gray eyes. Looking back to Tyrion, she regarded him with a small smile on her red lips. "I'll confess that I've discovered there is more to your dear brother than I first thought." She moved her gaze back to Jaime then, and he felt it burn his skin like a hot branding iron as her eyes dropped conspicuously from his face to another region of his anatomy.

"How gracious of my brother to _expose_ the finer qualities of his person to you" Tyrion replied diverting Jaime's attention from the girl kneeling in front of him.

Jaime shot Tyrion an annoyed look at his pointed comment before turning his hard gaze back on Amarah. He didn't need his brother of all people knowing what had happened between them. Tyrion was too clever by half, and Jaime didn't need him knowing what qualitieshe had _exposed_ to Amarah. His effort to stare her into silence was a wasted one, however, as her attention had already moved away from him and back to Tyrion.

"Enough about me and Jaime" she said in a dismissive tone as if her suggestive look at Jaime moments before had never occurred. "I just wanted to see for myself that Cersei hadn't managed to have your throat slit yet. She's never seemed the patient type after all."

"Fortunately enough, she has chosen to exercise a rare show of patience in my case" Tyrion replied. "Perhaps she thought it would prolong my suffering. What she fails to realize is that I love no place better than filthy, smelly dungeons. What better accommodations could I have asked for?"

Amarah shook her head slightly at his persistence in being more clever then the rest of them before reaching through the bars once more to squeeze his small, bony hand. "As I can see you are well enough, I shall take my leave now."

She moved to pull her hand away once again before Tyrion reached out to pull it back to him and raise it to his lips. Pressing a soft kiss to her hand, he released it once again. "If I weren't such a hideous monster perhaps I could made a woman like you love me, little friend."

Amarah seemed to consider the meaning behind his words for a moment before giving him a kind smile in return. "A woman doesn't have to spread her legs for you to love you, Tyrion."

Jaime saw Tyrion's bitter gaze soften just a bit at her words before the sly humor returned to them once more. "No, but it would make things much more entertaining."

"You're an impossible man, Tyrion Lannister" Amarah said with an indulgent smile before reaching up to grasp Jaime's proffered hand as he helped her rise.

"Perhaps I am an impossible man, but my brother no doubt feels the same. Do you not, Jaime? What better thing is there in the world than a beautiful woman spread open for you like a celebration feast?"

Jaime decided not to give Tyrion the satisfaction of acknowledging his less-than-subtle line of questioning. "Say goodbye to the princess, Tyrion. Who knows when you'll see her again?"

At Jaime's gentle reminder, Tyrion's eyes lost some of their teasing light as the reality began to sink in that he was losing his little friend. He turned his different colored eyes to her with a sad expression before obeying Jaime's command. "Farewell, Amarah. I shall always value the friendship we've shared."

Amarah nodded her head in acknowledgement of Tyrion's words and gave him a watery smile in return. "As will I. Goodbye, Tyrion."

With these words she abruptly turned and left the smelly prison, leaving Jaime alone with his brother. Once Amarah was gone Tyrion turned his focus fully on Jaime. All trace of humor and mockery was gone now as he stared at Jaime with deadly intent. "Take care of her, brother."

Jaime returned the intent look with one of his own. "I will" he answered in a steady voice. "And that is one vow I intend to keep."

After these words, Jaime assured Tyrion he would see him again before turning to follow Amarah through the open doorway. He saw that she stood waiting for him, but ignored her for the moment as he turned back to shut the wooden door and replace the key in the still unconscious guard's hand. Once that was done, he pivoted back to regard her with a serious expression. He moved his gaze beyond her for a moment to regard the eunuch who had escorted her here.

"Lord Varys, in the morning have Lady Amarah escorted to my solar" he ordered the man before looking back at her once more.

Amarah regarded him with a resigned expression, and Jaime thought he detected a hint of sadness there as well. Or perhaps he just wished it to be there. "Are you sending me away, my lord?" she asked him in a quiet voice.

"Yes" he replied with more calm than he felt. He had promised Tyrion he would keep her safe, and he couldn't fulfill that promise if he kept her here. This had to be done. "It's time you left this city, Princess."

* * *

_I hope this chapter was worth the wait to read it. I've stated at many points throughout this story how important that relationship between Tyrion and Amarah is so it was fun for me to show their interactions through the eyes of someone so close to the both of them. Both of them like to hide between sarcasm and humor so writing a scene between them was a fun challenge. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Please let me know what you think! I've so missed getting to read your wonderful comments while I was away on a short break from writing. All reviews are appreciated. As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate all of the support for my story more than I can ever say._


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: **_Thanks so much for the alerts I keep getting for reviews, favorites, and follows for my story. It means a lot that you guys are still reading this even though I don't get to update nearly as much as I would like. Hopefully, once I get more into the swing of things with work, I can update more than once every two weeks. Without further delay, here is the next update I've kept you all waiting for. I made it a tad longer to try to make up for the wait I keep putting you all through. Hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

_Time you left. _Jaime's parting words to Amarah in the dungeons replayed over and over in her mind long into the darkest hours of the night. As she tossed and turned between the cool, silk sheets of her bed, trying in vain to drift into slumber, she wondered why his words troubled her so. She should be rejoicing in the knowledge that she would soon be free of this wretched city once again, but the niggling thought that she would be leaving Jaime behind as well kept prodding at her already troubled mind.

As Amarah finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep, thoughts of the golden lion still plagued her into her dreams. It was with great relief when she felt Alayaya's hand gently shaking her bare shoulder to rouse her from sleep. Suppressing a loud yawn, Amarah gradually opened her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the yellow sunlight that streamed through the windows overlooking the bed where she slept. It was a bright, sunny day in the capital, but despite the cheery warmth, Amarah felt a melancholy sadness settle over her.

Forcing a smile to her trembling lips, Amarah quickly rose from the bed and bid Alayaya a quick good morning before shedding her silk sleeping gown in favor of her rough spun traveling clothes that had been discarded days before. The clothes had been cleaned of the dust of travel since she had last worn them, but they felt confining and heavy in comparison to the light, silk dresses she had been wearing since taking up residence in the brothel. Ignoring the slight feeling of discomfort at being back in her own clothes once again, Amarah looked to Alayaya with a true smile this time in thanks of all the girl had done for her.

"I shall never forget your kindness to me, Alayaya" Amarah told her sincerely as she gave the girl's shoulder a quick squeeze of appreciation.

As Amarah's hand fell away, Alayaya shyly bowed her head in acceptance of her gratitude. "I was pleased to be of service to you my lady. If only…" But her voice trailed off then, leaving the rest of the thought unspoken.

"If only what?" Amarah prodded her to continue.

Alayaya looked back at her again then with a wistful smile. "If only you were ruler of the kingdoms rather than the Lannisters. Perhaps then the city would have fared better."

"I'm not a ruler, Alayaya" Amarah refuted the girl's assertion with a firm shake of her head. "There are others who are better suited to the task than myself."

"Who might you have in mind for the task, my lady?" a sly, whispery voice which was becoming so familiar of late, smoothly interjected into their conversation.

Amarah turned to regard Varys with a veiled smile that closely resembled his own enigmatic expression. "No one at all, my lord."

With that vague response, she turned back again to grace Alayaya with a smile of farewell. Once their goodbyes were finished, Amarah followed Varys as he led her from the brothel back to the red keep. They walked along in silence as was their usual custom when Varys shepherded Amarah back-and-forth between the brothel and the palace. The journey seemed longer than usual, but they finally reached the walls of the keep before Varys quickly smuggled her inside through the use of the secret passageway.

They followed a slightly different path than usual, but Amarah knew the reason for the different route was due to Jaime's request that she meet in him his solar at the top of the keep rather than in his chambers where they had conducted their previous meetings. Varys led her to another hidden door along the passage of the tunnel that swung open to reveal one of the keep's many stone passageway's rather than the room that Amarah had expected.

She turned to regard Varys with a puzzled expression, but he simply returned it with a slight shake of his bald head. "This is where we must part, my lady. I trust you know the way well enough yourself."

Amarah barely had enough time to nod her head in automatic response to his assumption that she knew the way before he disappeared into the wall once more, leaving her in the passage by herself. Quickly shrinking further into the shadowed depths of her hood, Amarah began her way towards Jaime's solar. It was more of a risk walking about the keep in the open light of day, but Varys's sudden abandonment had left her little choice. She did indeed know the way as he had presumed and remembered Jaime's solar was close by.

It didn't take long before the door leading to her destination was in Amarah's sights, but as she reached out to push it open, she quickly drew her hand back at the sound of raised voices. Instantly recognizing the sound of Cersei's harsh voice, Amarah hurriedly withdrew into a nearby alcove, but the sound of raised voices still clearly echoed off the stone walls, allowing Amarah to hear every word of the Lannister's siblings' intense conversation.

"I was a fool to come" Amarah hear Cersei rage at her brother. "You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you'd protect Tommen. Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would _that_ have made you wroth?" Amarah wondered why Tommen would be in need of protection, but her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Jaime's voice.

"Tyiron is not going to harm Tommen or Myrcella. I am still not certain he killed Joffrey."

"How can you _say_ that?" Cersei's incensed voice grew even louder at Jaime denial of Tyrion's guilt. "After all his threats – "

"Threats mean nothing" Jaime cut her off abruptly. Amarah couldn't help the small smile touched her lips at Jaime's faithful defense of he little brother. "He swears he did not do it."

"Oh, he _swears_, is that it?" Cersei responded in a tone more furious than before. "And dwarfs don't lie, is that what you think?"

At her cruel words, Amarah had to restrain the impulse not to march into that room and tell Cersei exactly what she thought of her unfeeling remarks against Tyrion, but she simply had to content herself with gritting her teeth in annoyance while they argued on.

"Not to me" Jaime continued to defend Tyrion's honor. "No more than you would." Amarah almost snorted in derision at Jaime's foolish notion that Cersei had always been honest with him, but she somehow managed to hold the urge in check.

"You great golden fool. He's lied a thousand times to you, and so have I." Amarah tried not to imagine the blow Cersei's words caused Jaime. She had tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. Now Cersei told the truth of the matter herself when Jaime was no longer of any use to her. "Think what you will" the heartless bitch continued on. "The little monster is in a black cell, and soon Ser Ilyn will have his head off. Perhaps you'd like it for a keepsake."

Jaime interrupted her tirade once again. The simmering rage Amarah had detected in his voice moments before was now more prominent in the face of his sister's cruel mockery. The same sister who had once professed to love him. "You had best go, Cersei. You're making me angry."

Cersei's maniacal laugh echoed off the stone walls of the keep sending shivers of revulsion through Amarah's still frame. "Oh, an angry cripple" she continued to berate him. "How terrifying. A pity Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that."

After throwing that last cruel jibe at her brother, Cersei quickly strode through the door of the solar slamming it behind her with the force of fury behind the gesture. Amarah moved further back into the shadows to avoid detection, but in her current state of rage, Cersei was of no mind to observe her surroundings as she quickly strode off down the passageway. Amarah had the infantile urge to follow the woman and claw her green eyes from her head for the heartless things she had said regarding Jaime and Tyrion, but she determinedly ignored the impulse and instead looked back to the door the woman had just slammed closed before starting towards it once again.

Amarah cautiously entered the solar to find Jaime standing in the center of the room staring in front of him with a blank look on his face. She looked down to find his cock hanging out of his breeches just as Cersei had accused him of moments before, and Amarah felt an unwelcome surge of jealousy at the thought of how he had come to be in that present state. _Jealous of Cersie _Amarah groused inwardly. _The gods are a cruel lot._

"You're prone to catch a chill standing about like that" Amarah then said acidly before striding past him to gaze out the window at the courtyard below.

Jaime turned to give her a surprised glance as she passed by him, indicating that he had been unaware of her presence when she first entered the room, before moving to set himself to rights once more.

"I hadn't expected you quite so soon as this" he said after he was presentable once more.

Amarah looked back at him before dropping her gaze conspicuously to his now laced breeches. "So I see" she murmured before raising her gaze to his once more. "But now that I have decided to grace you with my presence, perhaps you can tell me what you wished say to before I depart."

Jaime looked momentarily surprised that she hadn't questioned him about what had just occurred between him and his sister, but Amarah was grateful when he chose to follow her lead in avoiding that particular topic of conversation. She wasn't in the mood to discuss what went one between him and Cersei, and she had little wish for talk of their convoluted relationship to intrude on her last moments with Jaime.

"I've sent for your wench" Jaime informed her before rounding the desk that stood between them and resting one lean hip on the edge as he regarded her with a lazy expression. As he leaned on the solid oak table, she caught sight of a faint flicker of pain in his emerald eyes.

Any annoyance she felt towards him was quickly gone in the face of his discomfort. "Are you well, my lord?" When they had met in the dungeons the previous evening she had not noticed him displaying any signs of discomfort, but the dungeons had been dark and most of her attention had been for Tyrion instead of his golden brother.

"Back to 'my lord' are we, Princess?" Jaime asked ignoring her question about his health.

Amarah ignored his attempt to change the subject and simply stood in silence waiting for him to answer the question. When he saw that she would not be satisfied, Jaime gave a resigned sigh before finally giving in.

"I proved most wonderfully to Ser Marbrand how capable I am of fighting with one hand" Jaime said in a voice that rang with false sincerity and self-disgust.

Amarah was not of a mind to pander to his feelings of self-pity, but she couldn't completely ignore his vulnerability in the face of Cersei's cruelty only moments before. "It took you a lifetime to learn to fight with the right" she answered reasonably. "No one expects you to suddenly be able to slay men with the left."

His false smile suddenly turned to a dark sneer at her words. "My father is not most men, Princess."

"Your father," she answered back in a hard voice, "is a cruel bastard who killed innocent children in order to further his own hold over the kindoms. Who cares _what_ he thinks?"

Despite her assurance, Jaime simply shook his head in dejected defeat. "Unfortunately, I do."

Amarah realized then that no matter what she said to soothe his wounded pride, Jaime would have to come to terms with the loss of his hand on his own. She could assure him of his worthiness until she had no breath left to speak, but her words were worthless if he didn't see the truth himself. She opened her mouth to speak these thoughts aloud, but was interrupted by the sound of someone else entering the tower.

"My lady!" Brienne gasped as she saw Amarah standing there with Jaime. "I had feared the worst for you every day you were out of my sight."

Brienne quickly followed that loyal sentiment by dropping to her knees before Amarah in a show of fealty and respect. Amarah was touched by her knight's gesture, but quickly waved her up once again. "Thank you for your concern, Brienne, but as you can see I am most well. How have you fared since we last spoke?"

"Well enough my lady once I was released from the tower." She then shot Jaime a dark scowl at these words which he only returned with a lazy smile meant to infuriate her further.

Quickly attempting to distract her knight from Jaime's rude behavior, Amarah questioned her once again. "What have you been doing while at the keep?"

"Ser Jaime has allowed me to train with his men, my lady, in preparation for our journey" Brienne said quietly, as if reluctant to admit that Jaime had behaved towards her in any way that would indicate a shred of decency on his part.

"She fit in most well with my men" Jaime assured Amarah from his spot behind the ladies. "They might be a bit prettier than the wench here, but on most days one would be hard pressed to see the difference. I have no doubt I am leaving you in very capable hands."

Brienne scowled at Jaime once again in response to his insulting remarks regarding her looks, but Amarah noted that the scowl was a bit less fierce than the one before. After all, despite Jaime's rude remarks on her appearance, he had also made certain to complement her skills as a knight.

Ignoring Brienne's scowl Jaime moved to retrieve to heavy saddlebags before dropping them in Brienne's large hands. "You'll find plenty of gold dragons and silver stags in there to last you and your lady for as long as you wish" he said indicating the overstuffed bags. "Also, I've had Tommen sign a letter stating you are both about on the king's business and not to be hindered in carrying out his orders."

Brienne looked momentarily shocked by the thoughtful gesture before responding. "Thank you, my lord. That was most kind."

"I'm not kind." Jaime shot her a scowl of his own as if she had just accused him of dancing about the court like one of the king's fools. "I am a practical man, and these are necessary supplies in order to remove the princess from this city. Also, I have a sword for you to carry about, wench, so that you might better protect the girl, seeing as she has a propensity to find trouble."

Amarah opened her mouth to refute his claim before snapping it shut in the realization that he spoke truthfully. She did seem to have a penchant for finding trouble. He gave her a smug smile before turning once again to retrieve a sword and scabbard that he promptly turned over to Brienne.

"One of my men has armor and mail waiting for you as well" he informed her. "He's expecting you. Once you're ready to depart, return here to collect the princess and you shall both be on your way."

Brienne turned to give Amarah an uncertain glance, before Amarah nodded her head reassuringly. "Do as he asks" she ordered her knight. "I shall be here when you return."

"As you wish, my lady" Brienne nodded her head in obedience before departing. She made certain to send one last dark look of warning to Jaime before she departed.

"She acts as if I'll shorten you by a head before she returns" Jaime grumbled before returning to his previous position of leaning on the side of his massive desk.

Amarah observed him give another slight wince of discomfort before replying. "She's learned not to trust men, and you can hardly argue that it's an unfounded fear."

"Of course not" he agreed with a careless shrug of his shoulders that seemed to cause him another twinge of pain. "We men are a despicable lot."

Amarah gave a faint smile in response to his claim before slowly approaching where he stood. "I would have agreed with that sentiment once."

"What changed your mind, Princess?" he asked half-seriously as she came closer.

She didn't say anything at first but simply took a moment to drink in the sight of him. This might be the last time she would ever see him again, and the thought hit her like an agonizing blow. Resolutely pushing the painful realization from her mind, she gave him a gentle smile before replying. "You did."

His lazy smile faltered just a bit in the face of that confession. "And how did I manage such a feat?"

"You gave me hope" she answered, now past all thought of teasing or jokes. This might be the last time she would ever speak to him, and she had no intention of wasting their last few, precious moments together. "When I was broken with no one left in this world to cling to, you gave me something to lean on. A place to find strength, and I shall never forget your kindness towards me. You say you are not a kind man, but I know different. No one has ever shown me such kindness as you."

He made no immediate reply, but slowly reached his good hand up to caress her face with a gentle smile. After cradling her face in his hand for a few moments, he finally spoke. "Only for you, Princess."

She tried valiantly to hold back the tears that threatened to wash over her at his gentle touch and tender words, but she couldn't stop the stray tear that slowly trailed down her pale cheek and onto his thumb that rested there. Brushing the tear away, Jaime stood and quickly pulled her to his chest as he held her locked in a tight embrace. Amarah stayed contentedly within his grasp, listening to the soothing beat of his heart beneath her ear as she rested her weary head against his solid chest. She felt a few more tears escape her closed eyes, but they were quickly absorbed by the wool of his tunic. He seemed not to mind though and simply continued to hold her in his arms.

"If you ever need me, Princess, I will be sure to find you" she felt him murmur softly into her hair as he stroked his arm up and down her back in a soothing motion.

"How will you know if I need you?" she mumbled back, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic.

She felt a slight rumble in his chest as he chuckled at her words. "I will know" was all he said in reply.

After that short exchange they fell silent as he continued to cradle her curly head against his chest and run his arm reassuringly up and down her back as if soothing a frightened animal. Amarah wasn't certain how long they stood locked in that embrace, but eventually they were interrupted by the sound of Brienne's return. Amarah lifted her head at the sound of the wooden door squeaking on its hinges, and Jaime quickly dropped his arms as Brienne's face appeared in the doorway.

"It's time my lady."

Amarah nodded her head in acknowledgement before Brienne prudently closed the door once more and awaited her on the other side. Amarah looked back at Jaime once more and gave him a sad smile before whispering a soft goodbye.

"Thank you for everything" she told him most sincerely before turning to go.

As she moved to leave, she was surprised to feel him quickly reach out to capture her small hand in his. She glanced at him once again with a questioning gaze, but he kept his green eyes focused on the small hand that he held captive between his strong fingers. After gazing intently at her hand for what seemed an eternity, he slowly lifted it to his mouth and brushed his lips softly across her bent fingers before raising his eyes to hers once again.

"Goodbye, Amarah."

It was the first time she had ever heard her name cross his lips, and she prayed most fervently to the gods that it would not be the last. He said her name like a benediction, a prayer. Like a holy thing. It stirred something inside her heart. Something that was both beautiful and painful.

He continued to hold her small hand in his firm grasp, and she was loathe to let him go for she knew once her fingers left his, they would be parted. Once she let go, she would disappear from this city and from his life. She didn't want to let go, but she knew she must. She _had_ to let him go. So she did.

"Goodbye, Jaime" she quietly returned his farewell before withdrawing her hand from his. Then she turned and walked away from him one last time.

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_Okay, before any of you decide to kill me for separating them, just know that the next chapter will be a time jump and pick up after almost all the events of book four. It was never my intention to change the cannon of George Martin's story, but instead weave my own character into the fabric of the original story. Since I'm not the biggest fan of books four and five, a time jump is the simple solution to keep all those events in tact without having to write about goings on that didn't really interest me. It's just much easier for me to skip over book four, which is basically just Brienne wandering around looking for Sansa and not accomplishing very much. Any events from that book that are relevant to my story will be referenced, so nobody will be confused or lost. Anyway, with the time jump into the next chapter, the separation will not be nearly as long for me and you the readers as it will be for Amarah and Jaime. But as they say, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder":) Let me know what you all think! I love getting to read all your wonderful comments about my story. Thank you so much for checking it out!_


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: **_Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, follows, and favorite alerts for my story. It always makes me very happy when I read a review that says I've been able to alter someone's opinion of Jaime. He's the best, so I'm just happy I can play some small part in helping others realize just how awesome he is:) Here's the next chapter! There are characters from the books that I cut out simply because they're not really essential to the story, and I wanted to streamline things as much as possible to make things simpler. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!_

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"Hopeless" Amarah muttered to herself while staring into the murky depths of her ale.

As she peered into the amber liquid, she could see a pair of grey eyes staring back with a weary expression which irked her even further. Without thinking, she jerked a balled fist towards the offending image, sending her tankard flying across the small space before crashing into the wall, its contents leaving a dark stain on the weathered wood as evidence of her frustration.

Amarah stared at the sight with a growing sense of helpless fury. "So fucking hopeless" she sighed again, the sound of her frustration evident in her tone.

"We still might find her, my lady" Brienne's voice sounded confidently, breaking through the din of revelers around them who had gathered in the inn's common room for an evening of drinking and enjoyment. Amarah did not share their enthusiasm.

"How?" Amarah demanded of her loyal knight, turning back to regard her with an incredulous gaze. "We have been searching for months with nothing to show for our efforts. We've pursued every one of Jaime's leads he uncovered in the capital and they have all lead to no where. Sometimes, Brienne, one is forced to admit their defeat, no matter how disappointing the result may be."

Brienne eyed her silently for a few moments, a faint censure coloring her gaze that helped to gall Amarah's irritation even further. What right did Brienne have to find fault with her? For months she had tirelessly pursued every twist and turn of this fruitless journey to find her missing cousin. All through the Riverlands and beyond she had searched, and nothing. Not even a whisper of the little wolf girl's whereabouts. There had been a most promising tale that had reached their ears of Sandor Clegane who traveled through the Riverlands with a young girl in tow, but that had all come to naught as well when they had discovered from the elder brother of the Quiet Isle, where he was reported to have vanished, that the Hound was dead.

They had returned from the Quiet Isle to this inn of the Crossroads where they now sat. At first, Amarah had doubted the brother's tale of Sandor's death as she suspected he was hiding something from them, and they had been told of a man wearing the helmet of a dog who ruthlessly attacked and robbed travelers and villagers near the Trident. Amarah had decided to see if the rumors of Clegane's survival were true only to find that the tales of the man wearing the helm in no way matched Clegane's physical description. Sandor Clegane had been one of the tallest knights Amarah had ever encountered, taller even than her lanky lady knight, but this man residing near the Trident was not tall enough to be the imposing Hound. Most likely, Clegane had died, just as the brother had said, before his body was looted by the bandits who had claimed his helm.

Hearing the news which confirmed the tale of Sandor's death had caused Amarah to reach the end of her patience. She hated this feeling of helplessness which engulfed and surrounded her consciousness. When they had first started on this journey, she had been optimistic that she would somehow discover the whereabouts of her last remaining Stark relation, but as the days of searching had slowly morphed into weeks and months, she was beginning to understand that she would most likely never see her cousin again. It was this realization that had sent Amarah into her present dark mood as she and her small party sat among the late night revelry of the Crossroads Inn.

"What do you plan to do then, my lady?" questioned a small voice from Amarah's side.

Amarah looked away from Brienne's penetrating, blue gaze to regard the small boy next to her. Soon after she and Brienne had left the capital, they had come upon young Podrick Payne who had followed them from the city, hoping to be of some use on their journey. Neither Brienne or Amarah had the heart to deny his earnest plea to help, so they had graciously allowed him to accompany them.

Podrick might have been a quiet boy, but Amarah had soon discovered that despite his reticence, he was rather handy in a fight. Obviously the boy had focused all his efforts on swordplay rather than intelligent banter with his peers, and the result was most satisfactory indeed. Though when not in the midst of a fight, he quickly reverted back into his shell of a timid, watchful creature. This was the mood he was presently in as he watched Amarah with an observant, clear-eyed gaze in the flickering candlelight that illuminated the cramped space surrounding them.

Amarah opened her mouth to answer his question about her intended plans, but the thought went forever unspoken as the pleasant atmosphere of the inn was suddenly disrupted by the sudden appearance by a small, dirty-looking band of men. As Amarah's eyes darted to the group of new arrivals, she felt her irritation turn abruptly to unpleasant recognition. Standing in the midst of the crowded space and wearing a helm fashioned into the shape of a murderous hound was the very same noseless bastard who had smacked and thrown her about while she and Brienne had been captives to the bloody mummers. The same men who had taken Jaime's hand.

Amarah's horrified gaze quickly swung to Brienne who had noted the appearance of their former foes as well. Her hand was already on the hilt of her faithful sword which she had carried by her side ever since the day Jaime had gifted it to her their last day in the capital. Podrick also had reached for his weapon while Amarah silently withdrew her dagger from where it was safely hidden within the folds of her cloak. No sooner had they drawn their weapons than Noseless and his hideous companions took note of their presence as well.

The noseless one sent Amarah a lecherous grin that filled her with equal parts fear and revulsion. "Well what do we have here, Biter?" he addressed his ferocious looking companion before approaching their small party with deadly intent. "Seems this pretty piece couldn't resist my charms after all. When we watched you ride away from Harrenhall with that pathetic cripple who hides behind his family name, I thought I might've been denied my right to get inside those fancy skirts o' yours. Well what do you say now, girl? Ready for a real man to fill that sweet, little –"

He never had time to finish the disgusting offer before Brienne jumped from behind the table with a roar of murderous rage. Noseless hadn't been anticipating the suddenness of her attack, but he had the advantage of number. His men quickly drew their swords to hold her off until Noseless had the chance to draw his sword to meet Brienne's attack. Podrick quickly rushed into the fray as well while Amarah stood watching the chaos in helpless indecision. Her only means of protection wouldn't last a moment against the mummers' swords, but neither could she stand idly by while her companions faced death to protect her honor.

Taking a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves, she boldly prepared to join the struggle just before she felt a heavy weight crash against her, sending her flying in the opposite direction of the fight. Dazed by the unexpected force that had sent her sprawling across the floor, she angrily looked to whoever had ungraciously shoved her out of their way, but her fury quickly dissipated when she looked into the eyes of a ghost from the past. Shaking her head to clear it of the fantastical notion, she looked at the man once again to find the same sight that had greeted her stunned gaze moments before.

_Gods help me_ she thought to herself in astonishment. _He looks almost exactly like Renly._

The boy who had shoved her towards the hard floor, regarded her with an expression of equal astonishment before they seemed to simultaneously recall that there was a deadly struggle occurring just a few feet from where they both were. Looking towards the fray, the boy reached to retrieve his own dangerous-looking sword before throwing her one more impatient glance.

"If you value your life, my lady, I would suggest you stay put" he bit out tersely before joining the fight himself.

His group of companions which had escaped Amarah's notice in her earlier astonishment, rushed behind him to take on the group of mummers who attacked Amarah's friends. Amarah's gaze left the handsome youth in order to locate her knight who she found finishing off the disgusting, noseless bastard. However, Amarah's sigh of relief at Noseless's death was quickly cut short by the sight of the ferocious creature that had been referred to as "Biter", rushing a weakened Brienne before fastening his sharp, pointed teeth on her exposed cheek.

Amarah gave a shout of indignation as she quickly rose to her feet to stop him from maiming her knight any further. Warning be damned, Amarah would not stand by and watch this vile creature attack Brienne without lifting a finger to help. Grasping the hilt of her shiny dagger, Amarah rushed toward the struggling pair before capitalizing on the advantage of surprise by burying her trusty weapon in the creature's back. As the cold metal pierced his skin, he quickly relinquished his hold on Brienne with a loud cry of pain to claw at his back in an attempt to remove the offending dagger. Quickly stepping away from him, Amarah watched as he tried in vain to dislodge the little blade before finally slumping to the floor in cold, silent death.

Amarah quickly looked away from the sight to find Brienne nursing her wounded cheek, little rivulets of bright red blood already beginning to seep through her large fingers. "Are you badly hurt?" Amarah questioned her anxiously.

"Not as badly as I would have been had you not intervened, my lady" Brienne assured her quickly.

Amarah noted that her knight's reply did not entirely answer the question, but with the fight dying down around them, her attention was soon directed elsewhere. The boy who had spoken to her earlier and his companions had succeeded in dispatching the rest of the mummers, but before Amarah could even take the time to rejoice in the mummer's defeat, she saw the black-haired youth turn his brilliant, blue gaze on her once again. Amarah noticed with a cold sense of dread that the look in his eyes was far from friendly.

"Take them" he ordered his men in a hard voice without ever removing his chilly gaze from her face.

As his men moved to obey the order, Amarah instinctively stepped back before questioning his actions. "What reason do you have to take us captive?" she demanded of him. "Have we done you some harm?"

"All traitors should answer for their crimes, my lady" he said in a voice hard as unrelenting steel.

Amarah's eyes narrowed to grey slits at his unfounded accusation that she was a traitor. "And who do you accuse me of betraying, _boy_?" she asked, deliberately addressing him in a way that would undermine his attempt at playing the seasoned knight.

His scowl only deepened further at her attempt to goad him, but he did not stray from the topic at hand. "I accuse you of betraying your family, _Lady Amarah_" he replied, surprising her with the use of her name.

"My family is dead, you little bastard" she shot back at him in anger. "And you know nothing of me."

"But our leader does" he answered taking another step closer, still trying to bully her into submission. "She is the one you must plead your innocence to, so you need not waste your breath on me."

With this final comment, he swung abruptly about on his heel before motioning for his men to carry out his orders and follow behind with the prisoners. As the men obeyed his silent order and came closer to take hold of Amarah, she took advantage of her last few precious seconds of freedeom to look back at her loyal knight. She saw that Brienne's bloody hand was no longer covering her wound but tightly gripping the hilt of her sword once again.

"Forget about that, Brienne" Amarah commanded her quickly as the men came closer.

Brienne regarded her with a confused expression. "My lady?" she questioned with raised brows.

"Run" Amarah ordered her knight.

Brienne's confusion only seemed to worsen at Amarah's unexpected command. "I cannot leave you, my lady. You must not ask it of me."

The men were almost on them now. "I'm not asking, Brienne. I'm giving you an order" Amarah whispered fiercely. "Go and find Jaime. Tell him I need him."

There was no longer any time for words or explanations. The men had reached them by then, and Brienne had her sword raised to strike them down. However, she finally seemed to realize that there were too many. If she tried to subdue them in her weakened state, they would doubtless cut her down without a thought. Amarah sent her a desperate, silent plea once again to obey her command. To her immense relief, she saw the grudging acceptance in Brienne's eyes as she quickly shoved off the men who reached to take her, and turned to run through the crowd of onlookers who stood around gawking. A few men attempted to follow her, but Brienne was too fast for them.

After a few tense moments, the men who had attempted to pursue the fleeing knight returned with defeated shakes of their heads, and Amarah was able to breathe easier once again. She didn't know what these men planned to do with her, but she knew that Brienne would not rest until she had fulfilled the command to find Jaime.

_If you ever need me, Princess, I will be sure to find you_ she recalled the whispered promise that had played over and over in her dreams since she had parted from Jaime. As the men bound her hands together and prepared to lead her away, Amarah replayed those words again in her head and quickly sent up a silent plea to the seven that Jaime would be able to fulfill that particular promise. For she did not want to contemplate the possibilities of what would befall her if he could not.

* * *

_There was no way I couldn't include Gendry in this story:) I imagined him being a bit hardened by his time with the brotherhood, so that was why I wrote him a little less friendly than we're use to seeing him in the books, but I am definitely planning to explore the potential of the connection between him and Amarah. They are family, after all:) And Amarah does know the name Gendry Waters even if she had never seen the face that goes with that name:) Next chapter we'll check in with Jaime and see if Brienne was successful or not. Our school has a few vacation days coming up at the end of this week so I may be able to post another chapter as soon as this coming weekend or a little bit earlier! Just as a friendly reminder, nice comments from readers always motivate me to work as a fast as I can to get the next chapter to you all. So please review and let me know your thoughts:) As always, thanks for reading!_


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: **_Thanks again for all the amazing reviews you guys have given me. It makes me so glad that you all enjoy reading this story so much, because it's very special to me. So obviously I didn't get up the new chapter last weekend like I wanted, and I'm really sorry about that because I did want to post the next update more quickly than this. But life just keeps getting in the way. Anyhow, here is my new chapter where we get to meet up with Jaime again. I had a bit of a hard time figuring out the exact sequence of events for this chapter, so that was something else that added to the delay, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy reading it!_

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He couldn't sleep. Jaime had tossed and turned to no avail before finally conceding the fact that he was fighting a losing battle. Throwing off the stifling covers in irritation, he abruptly rose from his sleeping pallet on the cold ground of his tent before striding over to the makeshift desk at the opposite end of the small space. After lighting a small candle to illuminate his surroundings, Jaime seated himself before burying his golden head in his hands with a groan of frustration.

He had never had much trouble finding sleep in the past, even when a captive of the bloody mummers with a freshly severed hand hanging round his neck or when warming the dreary dungeons of Riverrun, but now in the quiet solitude of his own tent, Jaime could not shake the nagging feeling of anxiousness that kept him from the sweet dreams of slumber. As he lifted his head, his tired gaze caught sight of the crumpled letter he had tossed there earlier before attempting to retire for the evening, Cersei's letter.

In the months Jaime had been absent from the capital, his sister had managed to find herself buried in a cesspool of intrigue and betrayal that not even she with all her cleverness could manage to escape. Jaime would have felt some sympathy for her, but he suspected that the trap in which Cersei had found herself ensnared was one of her own making. He frowned as he continued to stare at the offending letter, trying to picture his twin's face. He had spent so long trying to forget her that it took some time to put all the right features in place to form an accurate memory.

Jaime gave a short laugh at the sudden realization that he was having difficulty recalling his sister's face, the sound bitter and harsh in his dark, quiet surroundings. There was a time when he would have died for Cersei, gladly traded his last breath to keep her safe from harm. But that time was no more. Others had tried to warn him against the woman Cersei truly was, but he had stubbornly refused to listen to them. Instead, clinging with blind faith to the belief that his sister loved him as deep and true as he loved her. He had been a great, golden fool just as Cersei said.

_She's been fucking moon boy for all I know._ Tyrion's cruel words echoed in Jaime's mind and his mouth tightened in response to the unpleasant memory. After he had released Tyrion from the dungeon's of the Red Keep, some insanity had taken hold of Jaime, prompting him to confess to Tyrion the truth about his brother's little wife, the crofter's daughter. The truth about how she truly had been what she claimed and not a whore as their father had accused. Tyrion had repaid Jaime's honesty with anger, but the little lion's words about Cersei hadn't wounded Jaime as greatly as his hatred. The little brother he had always loved, despised him now. Jaime supposed he should simply be grateful he had managed to escape their father's unpleasant fate at Tyrion's hands. The morning after Jaime had released Tyrion from the dungeons, Tywin Lannister was dead and his imp son vanished from the city. Jaime had heard nothing of Tyrion since.

As Jaime continued to contemplate the letter lying crumpled and dejected before him, he recalled Cersei's anger as he had once again refused her request to become Hand of the king after their father's death. Jaime was no politician, he was a soldier, and he made certain to waste no time before departing the city to once again take command of his family's forces. Cersei's anger had saddened him at first, but after he had heard the confirmation from their cousin Lancel's lips of her unfaithfulness, he was less bothered by the falling out between them.

Jaime reluctantly reached towards the letter and flattened it out once again, running his left hand across the page to smooth away the creases while he read the dark scrawl of words that stood out in sharp contrast against the yellowed page. Cersei had been imprisoned by the High Septon for charges of treason and she begged Jaime to return to the city to act as her champion in a trial of combat. As Jaime contemplated the words, he waited for even a vague sense of dread or panic to settle over him, but he felt nothing. Nothing but a vague sense of pity for the sister who had finally found herself caught in her own web of deceit and lies.

Shoving the letter away in frustration, Jaime considered complying with the request that he return to help her. He might not be fool enough to fancy himself desperately in love with her as he once was, but she was still his family. While he continued to stare at the letter in indecision, he was distracted by the sound of someone entering his tent. Shooting an annoyed glance at the interloper who had interrupted his solitude, Jaime found his squire watching him with an anxious gaze.

"Yes, Peck, what is it?" Jaime shot at the young man, anxious to be alone with his thoughts once again.

"M'lord, there's a lady in the camp" the young squire informed him with a scandalized whisper. "She's demanding to see you."

The boy had Jaime's attention now. "Did this lady give you a name?"

"No, m'lord" the boy replied with a shake of his head. "I asked her to wait 'till the morning to see you, but she won't hear of it. She claims you will want to see her. I think you _should_ see her, m'lord. She's threatened to start cutting off all our heads until you do."

Jaime's smile of anticipation at the news of his unexpected visitor suddenly morphed into a frown at that last bit of information. "Would you describe the woman as beautiful, Peck?"

The boy's freckled nose scrunched up in distaste at the question. "Oh no, m'lord."

"Is she traveling alone?" Jaime then asked, hoping the question would be answered in the negative.

"Yes, m'lord."

That feeling of dread Jaime had been waiting for was suddenly upon him. "Show her to me at once" he ordered in a tight voice that betrayed his sudden alarm.

If the boy was surprised by Jaime's rare show of emotion, he hid it well. Quickly, he bowed in compliance with the order before silently backing out of the tent to bring the woman to Jaime. After the squire was gone, Jaime hurriedly rose to dress himself before his visitor was shown in. Roughly pulling a woolen tunic over his head, Jaime tried to stop himself from imagining the worst. Brienne's sudden appearance without Amarah by her side could mean any number of things.

While Cersei's face had been difficult to conjure up after so many months away from her presence, Amarah's beautiful features instantly sprung to Jaime's mind as readily as they did every night he closed his eyes before drifting to sleep. The little dark-haired princess had haunted his thoughts constantly since he last saw her in the capital. Jaime had suspected that it would be difficult, letting her go, but he never could have anticipated the pain her absence would inflict on him. In the darkest hours of the night, he would dream of her, of her pleasured cries and tempting kisses, only to awaken and discover once again that it had all been a dream. She was just as lost to him as before.

When Peck had mentioned that a lady was there to see him, Jaime had immediately assumed that Amarah had found him once again, only to be disappointed by the news that it was in fact Brienne of Tarth that sought an audience with him, not his princess. That disappointment was followed swiftly by worry at the thought of why Amarah's faithful body guard would be separated from her mistress for any reason. Jaime had yet to meet a more loyal knight than Brienne. For her to leave Amarah's side to seek him out, the situation must be dire indeed. Jaime refused to even contemplate any other alternative for Amarah's failure to appear.

After a few moments of waiting for the wench in tense silence, Jaime's ears were finally greeted by the sound of someone else entering his tent. He turned quickly to address the woman, but his words were stopped short by the sight of her face. She had always been rather unfortunate looking, Jaime recalled, but now her ugly face was marred even farther by the sight of an angry looking wound covering the right side of her freckled cheek.

Jaime's anxious worry over Amarah was momentarily forgotten at the sight of the wench's unsightly wound. "Did you have a disagreement with an angry horse?" Jaime asked without thinking, regarding the wound which closely resembled that of an animal bite.

Brienne instantly shot him a fierce scowl which he was so accustomed to seeing on her ugly face. "One of the mummers did this to me" she explained before gesturing to her face with an angry swipe of her large hand. "We encountered a band of them at an inn at the Crossroads five nights past."

"What happened?" Jaime asked almost dreading the reply.

Brienne took a deep breath as if preparing to tell the tale of a lengthy battle before giving him a reply. She explained how she and Amarah had encountered a small band of mummers before they were attacked. They would have most likely been killed if not for the interference of some other men who had promptly taken her lady captive after the struggle was ended.

"She told me to run before we were all taken captive. She said if I found you that _you_ would help her." Brienne finished the tale with a skeptical look that indicated her doubt of Amarah's belief that Jaime would help her. Jaime didn't bother to grace the woman's skepticism of his loyalty to Amarah with a response, as he was too relieved from her confirmation that Amarah was well and alive when she had last seen her.

"We'll leave at once" Jaime answered at once in response to Brienn's tale before preparing to leave the tent to inform his men that they were moving camp.

Brienne's harsh voice quickly halted his movements. "What do you plan to do, Kingslayer? March into their camp with hundreds of soldiers. If those men see us coming to slaughter them, they'll no doubt slit my lady's throat before giving you the pleasure of rescuing her. We must go alone."

"Do you think me some green solder or simply a fool, wench?" Jaime bit out, rounding back to glare at her with a fiery, green gaze. "I am well aware we cannot march my men into that camp to free her, but I'll not leave them here when they can still be of some use. They will station themselves a few leagues from the inn where you left the princess, and we will continue on alone. In order to negotiate the release of a hostage, it's always best to have an army as leverage in the bargaining."

Brienne still looked doubtful of Jaime's plan, which did nothing to lessen his irritation with her. "These men don't seem like the type to listen to reason" she warned him.

"Then we'll kill them in that case" Jaime answered with an unconcerned shrug.

After voicing his solution, Jaime noticed Brienne's gaze quickly flicker over the golden hand that he now wore strapped to the stump on his right arm. Instead of the anger he would have felt months before at her skepticism, now he only felt a faint prick of annoyance.

"Don't be fooled by the missing hand, wench. I've learned well enough how to kill men with the left."

"For my lady's sake, I pray that your confidence is not misplaced" Brienne replied.

Jaime returned her assessment of his claim with a grim smile. "Let us hope not."

As he turned once more to leave, he caught sight of Cersie's letter still lying on the desk where he had left it before Brienne's interruption. Brienne must have noticed the direction of his gaze, because she moved closer to the desk to glance over the missive that had lain forgotten in the face of her news regarding Amarah. Jaime saw a small frown form between her blonde brows after she finished glancing over the note, and she turned to regard him with a confused expression.

"What of your letter?" she questioned him softly, as if fearing the response.

Jaime wasted no time in replying. "Burn it."

He barely registered Brienne's look of surprise before quickly exiting the tent. Amarah needed his help, and he didn't mean to fail her.

* * *

_So not too long of a chapter. Basically the beginning of this one was my information dump of all the important events I skipped over in book four because I didn't want any readers to be lost or confused who haven't read the books. Hopefully, you all still enjoyed it though. Next chapter: **the reunion**:) Let me know what you all think. I love reading all your lovely comments. Until next time! (Which hopefully won't be too long:)_


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: **_I apologize profusely for the long delay in posting this update. I took a little break from this story a couple of weeks ago to write a one-shot something else, so that's why it took longer than normal to post the next chapter. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!_

* * *

It smelled like death. As Amarah sat in the murky darkness, she tried to ignore the unpleasant odor that permeated every nook and cranny of her personal prison, but she couldn't escape it. She was surrounded with no chance of escape. Once again, she gave another pathetic attempt to free herself of the rough-hewn ropes bound tightly around her slender wrists, but the only thing she succeeded in accomplishing was digging the bonds even further into her raw, bleeding skin. The weeping blisters served as testament to her previous struggles to escape this hellish darkness. Though Amarah knew the pursuit of freedom to be a fruitless one, her mind refused to accept logic. It demanded escape, so she must obey.

She had lost count of the days since she had been separated from young Podrick and thrown into this small, crude shed where she had been bound hand and foot. As the men bound the ropes securely around her hands and ankles, she imagined she could see a spark of sympathy in their bleak expression, but if it was truly there, it mattered not. They had simply finished the task assigned to them before promptly abandoning her to the lonesome dark.

Before their departure, she had caught snatches of their conversation as they went about their task of rendering her incapable of escape. From what she could gather, these men were members of the outlaw band the Brotherhood Without Banners. Despite that small bit of information she had been able to glean, Amarah still had no notion why they should wish to hold her captive. When the men had left her, she had assumed that she would be called to see this leader of theirs that the dark-haired youth had mentioned, but she remained alone with barely a glimpse of another human being.

For days on end, she had been left to starve on the dirt floor of the little shed, only receiving the barest amount of water necessary in order to survive. Many times she had felt the overwhelming urge to weep long and loudly in the knowledge of her helplessness, but she refused to give these cruel creatures the satisfaction of breaking her. When she was tempted to abandon all hope, she recalled Jaime's promise once again and whispered it to herself to boost her spirits. She had to have faith that he would come. She had to cling to the one hope, or she would be lost.

As Amarah continued to sit in the shadowy gloom, the deafening silence was suddenly broken by the sound of the wooden door squeaking heavily on its hinges. She turned in the direction of the noise and squinted through the darkness to see who had joined her in this dreary prison. Amarah's eyes were weak from so many days without sunlight, but she could see enough to determine the visitor was not the same little man who had been assigned to bring her the daily ration of water. This figure was broader, more imposing than her usual companion. As he came closer, she recognized the brilliant blue gaze. The boy from the inn.

This was the first time she had laid eyes on him since he ordered her taken captive, and she wasn't inclined to feel too kindly towards the source of her misery. Instead of addressing him, she simply contented herself with glaring silent daggers in his direction while waiting for him to announce the purpose of his visit.

"M'lady" he acknowledged her with a curt bow of his head. She didn't return the greeting. "The men say you haven't spoken a word since joining our company" he continued, undaunted by her hostile silence. "Surely you must have _some_ thoughts on your mind."

"I doubt you'd have any interest in hearing them" she finally spoke, her voice dry and scratchy from thirst.

He gave a flicker of a smile at her response before kneeling down to regard her more closely. "Perhaps you are right."

"Where is my squire?" she demanded of him then.

"We released him soon after securing you" the youth replied. "He wasn't important." This confession gave Amarah a small sense of relief. At least now she needn't worry for Pod's safety as well.

When it was clear he would say nothing else, Amarah spoke again. "Who _are_ you? It seems only fair I should know the name of my captor when you clearly know so much of me already."

He seemed to consider her request for a few moments before finally giving in. "Ser Gendry of the Brotherhood, m'lady."

That name struck a chord of memory in Amarah's mind, and she had to ponder it for a few moments before finally making the connection. "Gendry Waters?" she questioned him sharply. "The blacksmith's apprentice?"

He stiffened a bit at her mention of his former occupation. "How do you know of me?"

"You don't know?" she questioned him in disbelief.

It was his turn to eye her with a skeptical gaze. "Know what?"

"You're the bastard son of King Robert Baratheon" she told him bluntly. Amarah had never seen the point in drawing out an explanation when one could cut right to the heart of a matter.

"The king" he repeated in a voice that betrayed his surprise. "I knew my mother worked in a tavern, but I just assumed..." he trailed off then, obviously lost in thought. Amarah could hardly believe the situation herself. After so many months searching for her family, she had finally managed to stumble onto a relation after all. Considering the circumstances though, it was hardly the family reunion she had hoped for.

After a few moments more of intense concentration, Gendrey's gaze snapped back to her with a startled look. "Then that means…" he failed to finish that thought as well.

Despite her weakened state, Amarah couldn't hide her amused reaction at his horrified expression. "Indeed it does, _brother_. Who did you think it was that paid for your apprenticeship with the blacksmith? My father could hardly be bothered to look after every bastard he produced, so your care fell to me. A fine thanks I've received for my generosity" she finished with a scowl, glancing down at her injured wrists.

He glanced in the direction of her gaze before giving a slight wince at the sight. "I didn't know it was you. I assumed it was just some nobleman trying to ease his guilt over a bastard son."

"Well, I'm no nobleman, but perhaps I _was_ trying to ease my guilt" she conceded with a small shrug. "A short time after I arrived at the capital, I caught sight of you one day outside the keep. I remember asking my handmaid who the little boy was running through the streets, searching for scraps of food from the vendors. I suspected you were one of my father's bastards. You had the Baratheon look about you. You still do."

She broke off for a moment to look him over once again before returning to her story. "The maid told me about little Gendry Waters and his mother's death. How the owner of the tavern where you were born forced you to search out your own food while demanding free labor in exchange for putting a roof over your head. I was only a young girl at the time, but I recall loudly demanding that one of my father's men find a better place for you. I wouldn't relent until one of them finally agreed to the request. The next day I gave him all the money I had in the world, 10 golden dragons, to bring to the blacksmith in order to buy you a place as his apprentice. My conscience had been eased after that, and I considered the matter resolved. Aside from the allotment I set aside each year to pay the blacksmith for keeping you on, I never gave too much thought to my father's little bastard. There were so many of you after all."

He looked a bit uncertain how to respond after her confession. Finally he spoke once more. "So you pitied me."

"Yes" she replied honestly. "But pity or no, would you rather I had left you as you were?"

A small frown formed between his brows as he contemplated the answer to that question. "I suppose not. In the end though, it all would have ended the same. Once the money stopped, I was sent to join the band traveling to the wall. If not for the gold cloaks who attacked our party, I would be there now with the rest of the rapers and thieves."

"And you blame me somehow for your fate?" she question him, still confused as to the source of his anger towards her.

His face hardened once again at her question. "Not for my fate m'lady, for the fate of those you promised to protect."

"There's no need to call me, m'lady considering our relation to one another" she pointed out before addressing his unjust accusation. "And what promise might you be referring to?"

"The promise you made Lady Catelyn Stark to protect your family in the capital. When you fled King's Landing to save yourself, you abandoned them as well. Lady Arya –" but he caught himself suddenly, leaving the last thought unspoken.

Amarah waited for him to finish, but when he remained silent she took advantage of the opportunity to defend herself. "You know nothing of the inner workings of the king's court, so I will grant you forgiveness this once for your ignorance." She saw him open his mouth to argue the point but quickly continued on to cut off the protest. "If I had stayed, as you seem to think I should have done, it would have provided the queen with even more evidence to support the claim that I conspired with my family to take the throne from her son, Joffrey. Had I stayed, my head would be decorating the gates of the city along with my uncle, and Arya and Sansa would be jut as lost to the kingdoms as they are now. I tried to convince my uncle to leave the capital with me but he would not hear of it. He insisted on being honorable to the very end."

"Then you blame your uncle for their fates?" he questioned her doubtfully. Despite the mistrust in his eyes, Amarah noticed they had lost some of the hardened edge from before.

It pained her to lay the blame on Ned when she had loved him more than her own father, but the truth of the matter was clear. "Who else is to blame?" she asked him in a weary voice.

He said nothing else after that, and she found herself breaking the silence once again. "If you only came here to interrogate me, then I would say you've accomplished your purpose. And unless you plan to inflict some further form of torture on me, might I request to be left alone? Starving prisoners hardly tend to be in a talkative mood."

She did catch sight of a clear flash of guilt in his eyes then at her words, but he did not leave her as she requested. "I'm afraid I cannot" he replied. "Our leader demands you to be brought before her now. I was sent here to collect you."

"How do you propose I get there in my present position?" she asked bitterly, referencing her bound hands and feet.

Removing a small blade from his belt, Gendry quickly cut the bonds holding her feet and hands, instantly restoring blessed circulation to her limbs. He stood up then, gesturing for her to follow suit. Amarah tried pushing herself off the hard earth, but instantly fell back to the ground in a dusty heap when her weak body refused to cooperate. She considered raging against the ungracious brother who had put her in this pathetic condition when she felt him kneel down once again before wrapping his strong arms about her and lifting her into his arms, keeping her close to his broad chest as he left the small shack with her in tow.

She clung tightly to him as he carried her through the camp, staying alert to her surroundings. It was dusk now. The bright yellow sun had disappeared over the distant horizon, leaving a hazy, yellow glow in its wake. As the odd duo trooped through the camp, Amarah caught the stares of Gendry's fellow outlaws. She noticed that their looks could be interpreted as curious and sympathetic more than the accusatory hatred she had expected. She supposed it was only Gendry and his mysterious leader who seemed to think her devoid of any basic sense of honor.

After being hoisted along through the camp for several minutes, Amarah finally arrived at a large clearing through the cluster of trees. A large bonfire lit the surrounding space and the faces of those who gathered to judge her. Around the fire stood several somber looking men, all wearing the muted, forest colors of the Brotherhood. In the center of those men stood a mysterious hooded figure whose sole attention was fixed squarely on the her. Amarah found herself growing uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny, but she refused to show any sign that these men intimidated her.

"Put me down" she whispered in Gendry's ear once they had reached their destination.

He glanced at her skeptically, clearly doubtful that she could stand on her own, but complied with the quiet order. Once he placed her feet on the ground, Amarah felt the instant urge to crumple to the ground in exhaustion, but valiantly continued to stand on her own. She felt Gendry move directly behind her, supposedly a precaution in the case that she was unable to stay upright. She silently thanked the seven for his foresight.

Once she had gathered the strength necessary to address her captors, she licked her dry lips before opening her mouth to speak. "You have taken me captive against my will and brought accusations against me of betrayal and deceit. I would ask on what ground you base these claims?"

At her request, the hooded figure slowly reached up to remove the covering, revealing its face to Amarah's stunned gaze. She could hardly believe the sight before her. Slowly, Amarah felt all the blood drain from her face, leaving her as pale as a ghost. It couldn't be!

"Aunt?" she whispered barely loud enough for those around them to hear. The horrifying creature before her barely resembled the aunt she had loved so dearly for all her life. The face was similar, though marred by wicked looking scars and bruises, but it was the eyes that frightened Amarah most of all. They weren't her aunt's eyes. Gone were the warmth, kindness, and understanding Amarah had seen there all her life. Now those eyes were cold and lifeless. They looked like death.

The creature raised its hand then to pull together two flaps of skin at her throat. Amarah remembered the tale how Catelyn Stark had her throat slit after going mad once she saw Robb murdered. It was rather unsettling to Amarah to see the evidence of that account before her. Once the skin was pressed tightly together with a skeletal, bony hand, the creature addressed her.

Amarah had to strain to understand the words that came from the creature's mouth then. It sounded almost like a bullfrog's croak, broken and scratchy. "You are accused of treachery against the house Stark, Amarah Baratheon, and you shall hang for your crimes."

"What treachery?" Amarah demanded of the strange being before her. "I have fulfilled my promise to my lady aunt. I freed the Jaime Lannister and I still search for Sansa. How have I broken my vows?"

The creature was unmoved by Amarah's defense of her actions. "Your lies will not save you now. You've given your allegiance to the house Lannister, and abandoned all intention of returning my daughter to me."

"What proof do you have?" Amarah demanded.

The creature's eyes narrowed then as she approached Amarah. The eyes had taken on a sign of life now. They were filled with hatred. "The only proof I need. My daughter is still lost."

"Which is why I continue to search for her" Amarah continued to defend herself. "I never betrayed you, Aunt."

"No more of your lies" the creature spat at her before turning on her heel and marching away. "It's time to die."

Amarah could hardly process what was happening as two men moved forward to haul her to a nearby tree where a rope hung from the lowest branch, awaiting its next victim. Her. She barely registered the sound of Gendry's protests, but not much more could be heard above the roar of blood in her ears. So this was it felt like when one was about to die. Amarah wondered if, perhaps, this was how Uncle Ned felt just before Joffrey had stolen his head.

She was too weak to struggle at this point, and could only look on helplessly as another stranger fitted the noose about her neck. Amarah looked over to find Gendry being restrained by his fellow brothers to prevent him from reaching her side. At least she could take some comfort in the fact that her brother didn't hate her enough to wish her dead. Taking a deep breath, Amarah closed her eyes to wait the inevitable end. She had expected at least some tears at the time of her death, but her eyes were surprisingly dry. She hardly felt anything at all. Nothing by a numb sense of shock that overtook the rest of her senses.

Just as she felt the noose tighten about her neck in preparation to haul her upwards in the air, Amarah's ears were greeted by a most welcome sound. _His_ voice.

"Unless you all intend to live very short lives, I would suggest you release the lady."

Amarah opened her eyes then and looked towards the man who had spoken. He addressed those around them but his gaze was focused solely on her. Those green eyes were just as intense and beautiful as she had remembered, and Amarah had never seen a more welcome sight.

"Jaime" she murmured his name with a small smile, despite their dire circumstances. "You found me."

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_So some fun stuff there:) If you haven't read the books, don't worry. I'll explain further what happened to Catelyn in the next chapter. I really enjoyed writing this chapter (even though it took me forever to finish it) so I hope it was worth the long wait. Please let me know what you think! I would so love getting to hear everyone's thoughts on the direction of the story, and kind reviews always motivate me to write faster:) As always, thanks so much for reading!_


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: **_Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites. It means a lot to me that so many of you are sticking with the story in spite of my sporadic, too few updates the last couple of months. Since the holidays are here, I have more free time to write, so updates will be more frequent these next couple of weeks. I want to write what happens as much as you all want to read it. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!_

* * *

There had been few moments in Jaime Lannister's life when he had felt true fear. The flash of the blade that took his hand had sparked real terror in his heart. The glimpse of a small face through a distant window during a forbidden tryst with the queen had caused a flutter of dread in his warrior's spirit. But no event in the entirety of his existence had caused Jaime Lannister such soul stirring fear as the sight of a knotted noose around his princess's neck.

It had taken two days to track Amarah to the Brotherhood's camp after he and Brienne had arrived at the inn where she was taken captive. They had both taken turns questioning the owner of the establishment until he had given up the location of the outlaw band. He had been stubborn at first, but Jaime and the wench finally managed to break him. Jaime showed no mercy, for he knew every precious second lost was one that could cost Amarah her life.

From the sight that greeted his eyes once he broke through the cover of the forest trees, Jaime knew he had been justified in his ruthlessness. When he first caught sight of the small, frail body attached to the dangling rope, Jaime had thought it a corpse. The figure had been still as death and just as pale. But as he came close enough to recognize the face of the still form, his heart nearly ceased in its constant rhythm, so great was his fear that he had been too late to save her. Just as he drew the sword from his scabbard to cut down every bastard in sight, his terrified gaze caught sight of a slight movement from the princess. A tiny flicker of her dark lashes, but it was there. The sign of life needed to stay his hand.

Instead of bursting into the fray as was his original intention, Jaime turned slightly to signal Brienne to stay beneath the cover of the trees where she had been the entire time. He caught a flash of her straw-colored hair in the light as she gave a quick nod of agreement. With Jaime's men posted a league away, they might still be outnumbered by this small band, but he still had the element of surprise on his side. Gripping the hilt of his sword with a steady left hand, he stepped into the light to make his presence known.

"Unless you all plan to live very short lives, I would suggest you release the lady." Jaime was grateful his voice betrayed none of the fear he felt.

At his command, all pairs of eyes turned immediately in his direction. Ignoring the startled looks for a moment, Jaime kept his gaze focused on Amarah. Her lashes flickered once more before her eyes opened fully to find him standing there. The grey eyes were cloudy at first, as if she wasn't certain whose order had stayed her execution, but then he saw the recognition dawning in her eyes. The confusion gave way to relief as her mouth kicked up to reveal a grateful smile.

He saw her lips move then but he could only make out two words, her voice was so quiet and weak. _Found me._ Yes, he had found her, and now he had to get them both out of this hopeless situation. Giving his princess as comforting a smile as he could muster to help calm both their fears, he turned his attention back to the small band that surrounded them.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said release the lady."

One of the more bold observers gave a harsh laugh at the repeated command. "And what'll you do if we don't? Eh, Kingslayer? What do we have to fear from a cripple with a sword?"

Without blinking an eye Jaime approached the man with a swift stride before snaking the arm with his golden hand around the man's throat and placing the cold steel of his sword to his neck. Making a mark small enough to nick the thin skin over the man's beating pulse, Jaime pulled him closer to growl a warning in his ear.

"Perhaps you'd like to see what else this cripple can do."

To emphasize the point, Jaime dug the sharp edge of his sword a little deeper into the man's skin until a thin trail of crimson blood dribbled down his fat neck. Jaime caught a glimpse of the man's terrified gaze reflected in his golden hand and gave a menacing smile. The others would do well not to repeat the mistake of underestimating him.

The man's fellow brothers looked warily towards the pair but none moved to help. Jaime suspected they would rather save their own skins than risk the chance of losing their own necks to his deadly sword. As Jaime waited in the tense silence for someone to move to do his bidding, he saw another figure approach the spot where Amarah still stood tethered to the overhanging branches.

Amarah's gaze, which had been fastened so securely on him, was distracted then by the sight of the hooded figure at her side. Jaime saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but it was gone as swiftly as it appeared. Furrowing his brow in question, he looked to the figure that faced him now with an immovable stance. As a bony hand rose to remove the hood, Jaime found himself looking into the battered face of a woman he had never thought to see alive again.

"Lady Stark?"

The creature's eyes narrowed together in anger before she pulled together the dangling flaps of skin at her throat in order to speak. "Lady Stoneheart, Kingslayer. I'm no longer the Catelyn Stark you knew. She was too weak, too afraid to do what needed to be done, but I have no such fears. You've taken the lives of those I loved, and now I shall do the same. I want to see the same misery in your eyes before you join the girl in death. You must know my pain."

Jaime had to strain to understand what she said. The sound was so garbled and broken he could barely discern the words, but there was one thing he could not misunderstand. The burning hatred in her gaze. The words so clearly dripping with the venom of disdain. She meant to kill Amarah as revenge before turning the sword of death on him as well. By his valiant attempt to rescue the princess, he had revealed her importance to him, and there would be no reasoning with this creature now. If he was to see Amarah live, she must die. Again.

Removing his sword from his captive's throat, Jaime knocked him unconscious with a quick bash over the head before kicking him away. He approached the creature, Lady Stoneheart as she called herself, with a lazy stride. His arrogant demeanor and bearing never betraying the lurking fear in his heart. As his brain worked furiously to form a plan to escape this madness, he kept a constant eye and a pointed sword on those surrounding them, never allowing his gaze to falter.

Just as he was about to reach Amarah, a line of men formed in front of him, preventing him from reaching the object of his pursuit. They had removed their swords as well, pointing them at him with deadly intention. Only a slight wobble in their stance betrayed their uncertainty. Jaime gave them a cutting smile of lazy arrogance before turning his attention back to the pair of women behind them.

Amarah continued to remain still and quiet, watching him with a penetrating gaze. Jaime contemplated her for a moment, absorbing the lovely features of her delicate face. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes now, her cheeks were gaunt and hollow from lack of nutrition and sleep, but he barely noticed those things. Despite the weariness in her gaze, there was life there too, a spark of defiance against the fate that had been imposed on her, and he had never thought her more beautiful.

Forcing his gaze to the creature by her side, he opened his mouth once more to speak.

"You may have the advantage of numbers now, Lady Stark, but my men are very nearly here. If you exact your revenge on me by killing us, you'll not have long to enjoy your victory. Before the hour is through my men will have slaughtered you and every last one of these outlaws. Don't make the mistake of thinking me alone and helpless. I am far from either. It would be in your best interest to do as I ask."

The creature narrowed her gaze once more while contemplating his offer, but the defiant hatred still remained. "What do I care if you threaten my life? It was already taken from me before Dondarrion restored it to me once more. I'll consider his gift of life well used if I can manage to rid the kingdoms of you. I have no need of life."

"But what of your daughter?" These words came from the silent figure beside Lady Stoneheart. Jaime's gaze swung to Amarah with a questioning look, and she returned the silent query with a pointed gaze that instructed him to trust her. Jaime gave a barely perceptible nod of his head in acknowledgement before she returned her attention once again to her once-deceased aunt. She waited till she had Stoneheart's full attention before addressing her once again.

"Would you rather have your revenge on the man you once begged me to free from your son's prison or would you rather hold your daughter in your arms once more?"

Stoneheart's gaze grew suspicious as she took in Amarah's words. "My daughter is dead" she croaked. "You are responsible for her death. You betrayed – "

Amarah quickly cut off the creature's remark before she had the chance to complete it. "I never betrayed you. You were the one who ordered Jaime's escape from Riverrun. All I ever did was what you asked of me."

"I asked you to return my daughter" the creature reminded her impatiently.

"And I still can" Amarah implored her. "Sansa is not dead. You know this. If there is any of my aunt left in your soul, you can feel that she is not dead even as I do. I just need time."

The creature continued to eye her skeptically, but she still appeared unmoved. Jaime gripped the hilt of his sword once again, prepared to cut down every last man if that was what things came to.

Several moments of tense silence passed before they were broken once more by Amarah's voice. "Give me twenty days to find her. That's all I ask. After the twenty days I will return with or without Sansa, and then you may do with me as you wish."

"How do I know you will keep your word?" the creature demanded of her. "If I release you, he'll have his men slaughter me and the rest of the Brotherhood without a thought."

Jaime could hold his tongue no longer at that. "I could have slaughtered you already, but I chose not to. My men surround us even now as we speak. They only await my command." He broke off for a moment to glance back into the woods where he had left the wench. As if on command, they all caught the sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard. _Well the wench is good for something after all _Jaime thought to himself with and inward smirk before turning to face the company once again. He kept the mask of arrogance firmly in place to shield the knowledge of his convincing bluff. "Take the offer, my lady" he urged Stoneheart. "It's likely the best you'll receive, and I'll even sweeten it for you if you like. Instead of Amarah, you can have me if we've failed to find your daughter in the twenty days allotted. I certainly don't mind slaughtering the lot of your men, but it's so terribly messy. Save us all trouble and release the girl."

Stoneheart glanced back-and-forth between them as if trying to discern the sincerity behind the offer. "Twenty days" she finally said with an abrupt nod of her head. "Then return."

She approached Jaime then with a look burning with all the hatred she felt, and he returned her glare a careless glance he knew infuriated her. "If you fail, then I'll have your traitorous head" she told him. "I'm certain none would mourn your loss too greatly."

"Perhaps you're right" Jaime returned with a small shrug. "But don't sharpen your executioner's ax too soon, my lady. We still have the twenty days."

"Then make good use of them, Kingslayer" she spat at him. "As they may be your last."

With this last statement, she gave the terse order for her men to free Amarah before replacing her hood once again over her scarred face. "Twenty days" she repeated once more to both of them before spinning abruptly on her heel and disappearing through the myriad of trees.

Jaime watched her departure for a few moments before turning his attention once again where it belonged, on his princess. He looked over to find a dark-haired boy removing the rope from about her neck. Once the braided rope was removed, Amarah seemed to lose her ability to stand as her knees buckled abruptly and she tipped backwards toward the hard earth. Jaime instantly moved forward to help her, but the dark-haired boy was there first capturing her in his strong arms and pulling her slight frame towards his broad chest.

Jaime had to fight the instant urge to tear her from the boy's arms. Instead, he chose to take a calming breath before putting away his sword and stepping towards the boy with a look that was none-too-friendly. "I believe that's mine, boy."

Amarah might have been too weak to stand, but her condition didn't prevent her from shooting and indignant look in his direction. "I'm not your horse, Lannister."

"Certainly not" Jaime agreed easily, masking his irritation at her failure to call him by his given name. "After all, I ride my horse daily, but you – "

"Don't you dare finish that sentence" Amarah cut him off with an indignant huff.

Jaime didn't bother to hide his smirk as he reached over without permission to pluck her from the boy's arms. The boy opened his mouth to protest but Jaime cut that protest short with a menacing look of deadly intent. The boy's mouth snapped shut once more and Jaime rewarded his silence with a patronizing smile. "Wise boy."

Once Amarah was securely in his arms, Jaime took a moment to inspect her more closely. She was much lighter than he remembered, her full, luscious frame more lean now from months of travel and starvation at her captor's hands. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, Jaime imagined he could feel the her ribs through the thin bodice of her dress. He looked down then at her hands which she braced against him as her held her aloft. What he saw then caused his blood to heat in anger as he took in the raw, bleeding skin and welts around the fine bones of her delicate wrists.

Amarah must have followed the direction of his horrified gaze because she gave a soft sigh drawing his attention to her face once again. Her eyes had lost their spark of defiance from before, now they just looked sad. "I look quite a sight don't I?" she whispered quietly.

Jaime gave her a gentle smile then before pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to her gaunt cheek. "You're still prettier than my horse, Princess" he murmured softly so only she could hear.

He saw a hint of a smile then on her beautiful mouth. "Careful" she warned him in an equally soft whisper. "Any more compliments like that, and I might never want to leave your side."

Jaime gave a soft chuckle in response to her reminder of his words the day they escaped Riverrun, the day that marked the beginning of their complicated relationship with one another. The moment was broken almost immediately, though, by the knowledge that they were currently being observed by men who had tried moments before to have them both killed.

"I think it's time we left, Princess" Jaime announced to her then, loudly enough for those around to hear as well. As he turned and walked from the clearing with Amarah still in his arms, Jaime kept his senses acutely attuned to those around them. A bargain with Stoneheart might not be enough to stop others from trying to rid the kingdoms of the Kingslayer. Keeping the men within his sights, Jaime had almost escaped the clearing when he saw someone approaching them.

He immediately reached for his sword before recognizing the boy who had loosed Amarah from the hangman's noose. Giving a look that warned him to keep his distance, Jaime stopped for a moment to see what it was he had to say.

"Make it quick, boy" Jaime ordered him. "My patience is beginning to wear thin."

"I would like to accompany you on the journey, my lord. I would like to help in whatever way I can. I've much to atone for, I know" he said shooting Amarah an apologetic glance.

Jaime opened his mouth to shoot down the boy's offer to help without a thought, but Amarah spoke first. "You're welcome to come with us if you wish, Gendry, but your fellow brothers might not agree to such a plan."

"I've told them I wish to go along to ensure you remember to keep the bargain with our lady" he assured her quickly.

Jaime wasn't particularly impressed by the boy's plan. "Did you neglect to acknowledge the fact I could cut you down without a moment's hesitation? You'd be a rather poor reminder of our bargain then."

"Oh don't be such an arse, Jaime" Amarah told him then with an annoyed frown. Jaime returned the frown with one of his own, but chose to remain silent. Once Amarah was certain he would behave, she turned her attention back to the boy called Gendry. "If you're coming then you'd best leave now. We've not much time."

With that statement, Jaime started towards the cluster of trees once again until they were safely under the cover of darkness. They found Brienne standing at the edge of the forest waiting for them. She sent their new companion a warning glance before ignoring him in favor of her lady.

"Thank the seven you're safe, my lady. With each day that passed I feared the worst."

Amarah reached out to give her faithful knight a reassuring pat on her broad shoulder. "I knew I could depend on your Brienne. Thank you for finding him for me."

Brienne gave a quick, jerky nod of her head in acknowledgement of Amarah's thanks before her ugly face turned serious once more. "How do you intend to find Lady Sansa in twenty days, my lady, when we could not find any trace of her in our travels?"

"A prudent question" Jaime echoes the wench's thoughts. "Have you learned something that might help us find the missing wolf pup?"

"No" Amarah answered with a swift shake of her curly head. "But I know of someone who might be able to help."

"Does this mysterious person happen to have a name?" Jaime questioned with a grim frown. "I would prefer not to break another vow. My reputation is in shreds as it is."

"He has a name you're well familiar with" Amarah answered with a knowing smile. "He'll most likely be reluctant to help us, but I'm certain we can bring him around. I think it's high time to resurrect Sandor Clegane."

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_It's high time I wrote the Hound into this story. I'll explain Amarah's revelation regarding Sandor's fate in the next chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. As I mentioned, the holidays give me more time to write but reviews are the best motivation. I'll make a deal with y'all. If this story can pass 300 reviews in the next day or two I will update with at least 3 new chapters this week (possibly more). I know that's a lot of reviews, but we'll see:) Whatever happens, thanks so much for taking the time to read my story! I look forward to posting a new chapter soon. There's so much more goodness to explore between our newly reunited couple:)_


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note:** _Thanks so much for the amazing reviews! Since y'all got me past the 300 mark, expect those three new updates this week. Here's the first one! I decided to take a little break from all the action for just a few chapters to take some time to focus on Jaime and Amarah's relationship with one another and how that continues to change and evolve. In a couple chapters we'll get back to the plot-based stuff (and the addition of Sandor Clegane), but first, I just wanted to take a bit of a breather and focus more on the romance. I hope you all enjoy it!_

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Amarah's strength managed to last long enough for her to mount Jaime's horse as they rode away from the Brotherhood's camp, but it promptly deserted her less than half a league into the journey. Her last memory was of Jaime ordering her to close her eyes and get some much needed rest. She must have yielded to the advice, because the next thing Amarah knew, she was cracking open her heavy lids to find herself in a strange room, tucked between the sheets of a comfortable bed with a cheery fire burning steadily in the hearth a short distance from where she lay.

The sound of a soft snore interrupted Amarah's inspection of her new surroundings, drawing her attention to a sleeping figure at the foot of the bed. Amarah's mouth turned up in amusement at the sight of Jaime sleeping soundly in a small, cramped chair with his golden head propped up at an awkward angle on his left hand. Trying not to disturb the sleeping knight, Amarah pushed herself up into a sitting position to better observe him, but couldn't stop the soft groan that escaped her lips as her abused muscles screamed in protest at the sudden movement.

At the sound of her distress, Jaime instantly jerked awake, his head snapping up with surprising force before the hand he had been using as a pillow reached for his sword that now lay beside him on the rough, wooden slats of the floor beneath their feet. Once he seemed to realize they were in no immediate danger, Amarah saw him visibly relax before turning his emerald gaze fully on her.

She gave him a weak smile before licking her dry lips in preparation to speak. "Thirsty" was the only word she was able to manage, but he quickly understood.

Moving from his chair to the pitcher of water on a wooden stand against the wall, Jaime poured a generous amount in a goblet nearby before approaching her with the offering. Amarah quickly reached out for the precious bounty before practically tearing it from his hands and raising it to her parched lips. She took several deep gulps of the sweet, cool liquid, closing her eyes in rapturous bliss as the cool water slid easily down her dry, aching throat. Once her thirst was finally sated, she lowered the cup from her mouth and returned it to his waiting hand.

After she handed him the cup, Amarah felt Jaime immediately snake his hand around her extended arm before it could retreat. Amarah noticed an angry spark in his gaze and looked down to see him glaring at the deep cuts and lacerations around her wrists that testified to her poor treatment at the Brotherhood's hands.

"This needs to be tended to" Jaime informed her abruptly before spinning on his heel to open the door of their small chamber.

She heard him shout an order for some brandy and linen, and the order was quickly followed by the sound of loud scuffling as others hurriedly moved to fulfill the command. A few moments later, Jaime closed the door once again with the requested items in his hand before returning to seat himself on the edge of Amarah's small bed.

Once he was comfortably seated, Jaime held out his hand for her to give him her injured wrists. "Is this going to be painful?" Amarah questioned him with a suspicious gaze, a bit hesitant to obey the silent command.

"Yes" he answered bluntly. "But it's necessary to keep your wounds from festering. Better to experience a small amount of pain now than a great deal of it later."

Amarah gave a small sigh of resignation before reluctantly placing her arm in his outstretch hand. Holding her wounded wrist over a bowl he had retrieved from the stand by the wall, Jaime uncorked the flagon of brandy and poured half the contents over her abused skin. It felt like the flames of an open fire licking the surface of her skin, and Amarah felt her eyes instantly burn with unshed tears at the searing pain.

"Gods!" she hissed through teeth clenched in agony. "That fucking hurts!"

Jaime flashed her an apologetic smile before patting the skin dry and slowly wrapping one strip of linen around her wrist. As he worked in silence, Amarah tried to take her mind off the discomforting pain by concentrating on him. When he had rescued her in the woods, she hadn't been allowed the time to inspect him as closely as she wished. Now in the blazing light of the fire, she was afforded a much better view than the evening before.

His beautiful, golden hair had returned to its previous glory, the long strands glittering like spun gold in the soft glow of the room. He wasn't as lean now. His cheeks were no longer gaunt and hollow as they were when they had last parted. Now he looked healthy and strong, much as he had before his imprisonment in Riverrun. As Amarah continued to study Jaime's face, he suddenly looked up, catching her curious gaze.

Never ceasing his tender ministrations, he gave her a wicked smile. "See something you like, Princess?"

"Perhaps" she answered with a vague smile, before dropping her gaze to the golden hand strapped to his right arm. "A golden hand for the golden knight?" she questioned him with a raised brow.

"It seemed fitting for a Lannister, and I recalled the advice of a certain princess who instructed me to put myself back together" he offered with a slight smirk before returning his attention to the task at hand. The linen was now wrapped securely around her wrist, and he placed it gently in her lap before reaching for the other.

"You seem to have accomplished that task rather well" Amarah managed to say before he poured the rest of the brandy over her other wrist, causing her another hasty intake of breath at the sharp discomfort.

A few moments later, the pain had subsided enough for her to speak once again. "What happened after we left the camp?"

Jaime took a brief moment to place the empty jug on the floor and wrap the other wrist as well before answering her question. "We rejoined my men who were stationed close by and returned here to the inn. I thought a bed might be more comfortable for you than a sleeping pallet on the ground of a tent. You awakened briefly when we moved you from my horse. It was enough time to force a small bit of broth down your through before you promptly lost consciousness again."

Amarah furrowed her brow in confusion at that information. "I don't recall waking up. The last thing I remember we were on your horse riding under the cover of the stars. I feel as if I've been asleep for days."

"You've been asleep for two days" he informed her.

Amarah's eyes widened in horror at that news. "_Two days_? You allowed me to lie here for two days when we should have been riding to the Saltpans? Even now we're losing precious time. We must leave as soon as possible."

With these words, Amarah moved to push him away but he quickly caught her shoulders in a fierce grip and pushed her back against the soft pillows of the bed. "You're not going anywhere, Princess, until you've recovered some of your strength" he told her with a stern expression. "We'll stay one more night at the inn before we ride. If Clegane is still truly alive as you say, I doubt he'll be going anywhere, so there's no need to act hastily."

"Did you forget our bargain with Stoneheart?" Amarah asked him with an angry glare, trying in vain to dislodge his tight grip which kept her pinned tightly against the soft mattress of the bed. "We only have twenty days to return with Sansa, and now we've lost precious time."

Jaime leaned in even farther then, pressing his face close enough to hers so that their noses were almost touching. Instead of the irritation Amarah expected to see in his gaze, she saw a surprising flash of fear there instead. "I said we're staying here, Princess, and that's final" he practically growled the order at her. "Until I'm certain you can mount a horse without falling prey to exhaustion and ill-health, we stay here. You've no hope of fulfilling the bargain if you don't take the time to recover. I've seen men go into battle who thought themselves ready, but fate knew better. You'll not make the same foolish mistake."

Knowing he was right, Amarah rewarded his sound reasoning with a look of resignation and didn't argue the point any further. Once he was satisfied she would give him no more trouble, Jaime started to move away from her once again, but just as he was about to leave her, a sudden impulse prompted Amarah to grab his retreating shoulders, gripping him tightly to her. Jaime's gaze flickered to hers with a confused look, but he made no further attempt to move away.

"What is it, Princess?" Jaime asked, moving his golden hand to push a few stray locks of hair off her forehead. "Afraid you might lose me again?"

"Yes" she whispered back, almost too quietly for him to hear. She hadn't realized the truth of it until he spoke the words aloud.

After her soft admission, something shifted in Jaime's gaze. Gone now was all trace of anger and fear. In its place a burning need. The same consuming want Amarah felt buried deep within her bones. Without taking any time to think, she quickly moved her hands to grip the collar of his woolen tunic before pulling him down to meet her eager mouth. Jaime offered no resistance, and soon his lips were sealed tightly over hers.

For Amarah, Jaime's kiss was like being offered a drink of life-giving water after months of wandering helpless and lost in the dry desert waste. Forgetting her bandaged wounds, she snaked her arms around Jaime's neck, burying her fingers in the thick strands of his golden hair as he continued to kiss her with a savage hunger. Jaime opened her lips then with a bold stroke of his tongue, and she readily accepted the welcome invasion. There was no finesse in their kiss, no delicate precision. They simply consumed each other with raw, passionate need. Amarah had never needed anything so desperately in her life as she needed this kiss.

As she parted her teeth to allow him deeper access to her mouth, Amarah heard him give a low growl deep in his throat as he took full advantage of the offering. Eagerly, she twined her tongue with his and sucked daintily, clinging to his mouth with trembling lips. She felt her whole frame rack with shuddering need when he slid his hand against the mattress under her buttocks, lifting her up to cradle the evidence of his desire. The blood roared in her veins as he pressed her to him, her body arching into his, creating an exquisite friction. She wanted more, needed it all.

Just then, the door of the chamber opened, the click of the heavy latch instantly dousing their passion like a barrel of icy water. Instantly Jaime released his grip on Amarah and promptly stood, striding to the opposite end of the room keeping his back to her. From his rigid stance, Amarah assumed he was just as frustrated as she at their thwarted kiss. Turning her attention from Jaime, Amarah looked to see who had interrupted their blissful interlude. At the door, stood Brienne with a ruddy shade of red covering her freckled skin.

"Impeccable timing, wench, as always" Jaime groused to the wall in front of him. Without turning to look at Amarah, he quickly strode from the room, shooting one last command over his retreating shoulder. "See that the princess gets some rest. We leave for the Saltpans day after next."

With that he was gone, leaving the two women alone in the deafening silence. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Both unsure of what to say. Finally, Brienne's voice sounded in the quiet space. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not know…" She trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Amarah took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beat of her heart before addressing her lady knight. "Don't fret about it, Brienne" she replied with a tight smile. "The next time I'm engaged in a tryst, I'll be sure to bolt the door."

"I think that would be wise, my lady" Brienne agreed readily. Eager to move on to another subject, she lifted the tray in her hands as explanation for her interruption. At the sight of food, Amarah's stomach rumbled loudly and she promptly forgave Brienne for her ill-timed entrance at the sight of glorious food.

Once the tray was in her lap and Brienne had left her to eat in peace, Amarah's thoughts turned to Jaime once more. She could no longer deny that her feelings for him went deeper than mere physical attraction, but the knowledge of his love for Cersei constantly lurked in the back of her mind, hanging over her thoughts like a dark shadow of doubt. How could she ever let herself love a man who had already given his heart away to someone else?

Giving a mournful sigh at her foolishness, Amarah quickly sent up a silent prayer to the seven that she would be wise enough not to let herself fall in love with the golden god, but as soon as she prayed the words, she knew it a fruitless request. Try as she might, there was not avoiding the truth any longer. _Gods help me_ she thought, closing her eyes in helpless defeat. _I'm in love with Jaime Lannister._

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_So how long will Amarah be able to keep that little revelation to herself? You'll have to keep reading to find out:) As always, all reviews are appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!_


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: **_So this is a shorter chapter, but it's more of a build up to the next one. The stuff in here with the hound is mostly based on the books, but I changed some stuff around a bit to work with my story. I hope y'all enjoy it! Read on!_

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"I feel like a prisoner" Amarah muttered grumpily while staring at the cold, empty fireplace. It struck her that the cheerless sight reflected her current mood.

Brienne gave her mistress a long-suffering look but didn't budge on her insistence that Amarah remain abed. "There's nothing to be gained by you moving about before your strength is recovered, my lady. It's best that you agree to Lannister's wishes."

Amarah shot her knight a testy look at that last piece of advice. "Now you decide to agree with the man? He's wasting precious time by keeping us here. We should have ridden for the Quiet Isle two days past."

Brienne returned her testiness with a patronizing glance that did nothing to lessen Amarah's ire. "My lady, you may dislike the order, but it is not a foolish one. The Saltpans are a short ride from here, and we'll not loose a great deal of time by awaiting you to regain your strength. Might I ask why you wish to return there?" she asked then, wisely choosing to alter the course of their conversation in an effort to turn Amarah's mind to something other than her frustration with Jaime Lannister.

She had seen nothing of him since their encounter the previous evening. He had sent word through Brienne that Amarah was, under no circumstances, allowed to rise from her bed until the morning next when they would begin their journey. After being sequestered away for the entire morning with no company but her own, she had been none too pleased to hear Jaime's latest edict. A niggling voice in the back of her mind whispered that her hurt feelings stemmed more from Jaime's neglect of her since their kiss than his high-handed behavior, but she stubbornly ignored the whispered thought.

Instead, Amarah chose to follow Brienne's lead in changing the topic of their heated conversation. Taking a deep, calming breath, she prepared to explain her reasons for revisiting the sight of Sandor Clegane's supposed resting place. "Do you recall when we asked the elder brother about the Hound's death?" she asked Brienne.

The lady knight's brow furrowed in thought as she tried to recall the conversation. "I believe, he said that Clegane succumbed to his wounds and died in his arms. He seemed to be telling the truth."

"But he said that it was the Hound that died that day" Amarah reminded her with a sharp look. "When you asked him again if it was Sandor Clegane that died, all he would say was that he was at rest. I didn't think much of it at the time, but when I was locked away in the darkness with no means of escape but to my own thoughts, I recalled the brother's words once again. What if he meant that Clegane was at rest because he was at peace? No longer a mindless hound who killed for others, but a man free to do as he chose?"

Brienne didn't look as if she was entirely convinced by Amarah's reasoning. "But what reason would the brother have to cause us to think Clegane dead?"

"Because Clegane wants others to think he's dead" Amarah replied quickly. "He's always despised the knighthood because of his brother. What better means to escape what he hates most than death?"

"But even if he is still alive as you suppose, what help could he be in locating the lost Sansa Stark?" Brienne asked, her blue eyes still cloudy with confusion.

Amarah took a quick moment to readjust the lumpy pillows behind her before answering the question. "He was always watching" Amarah said distractedly as she stared off into the distance, recalling the brief time in the capital when her uncle served as Hand.

When she said nothing else, Brienne prompted her to continue. "Watching Lady Sansa?"

"Yes" Amarah's gaze snapped into focus once more as her eyes returned Brienne's. "I thought it strange at first, why he should watch her so closely, but then I recalled where I had seen such a look before. It was the same way Jaime's eyes would follow the queen whenever they were together. He never let it show on his face; his interest in what she did, who she spoke to. But it was there in his eyes. The way they followed her every movement. It reminded me of the way Clegane watched my cousin. If he watched her as closely as I suspect, then I've no doubt he can tell us something helpful in regard to whom she formed connections with at court."

Brienne's eyes widened in surprise as she finally caught on to Amarah's meaning. "If he knew her liaisons at court it could help lead us to discover who orchestrated her escape."

"Exactly" Amarah agreed, giving into her first smile of the day. "If we can discover who it was that helped her escape, we'll fare much better at tracing her movements. We've been going about this wrong from the start. Instead of focusing on Sansa, we should have been focusing on those who helped her escape. No doubt, they've taken her some place that they know will safely shield her from the searching gaze of the kingdom."

"Why would anyone wish to hide the Lady Sansa, though?" Brienne asked, confused once again.

Amarah had to admit defeat at that question. "That I do not know" she answered with a negative shake of her head. "But I suspect if we can discover who has hidden her, we'll discover their reason's for doing so as well."

"Have you told Ser Jaime about these suspicions?" Brienne asked her suddenly.

Amarah felt her ears heat slightly at the mention of Jaime's name. She was grateful that the long curls draped over her shoulders hid the evidence of her embarrassment from view. "We didn't talk a great deal when we were together last" she admitted, her gaze quickly dropping from Brienne's face to study the numerous cracks in the wooden floor.

She waited for a reply, but when no sound came, she raised her eyes once more to find Brienne looking at her with a strange expression. "Is something the matter?" Amarah questioned her, unnerved by the intensity of her knight's gaze.

For a several beats of silence, Brienne seemed to ponder Amarah's words before finally deciding to speak her thoughts aloud. "Did Ser Jaime tell you of his sister, my lady?" she asked, taking Amarah by surprise.

It hadn't been a question Amarah expected to hear. "No" she replied cautiously, as no news regarding Cersei was ever good. "_Is_ there something he should have told me?"

"She's been imprisoned by the high septon in the capital" Brienne replied, surprising Amarah even further.

_The great lioness finally fallen into a trap of her own making?_ she thought with a wry smile. The thought brought a rather pleasant picture to mind. Amarah only regretted the fact that she was not present to witness the bitch's downfall. But knowing Cersei, it likely would not be the end. She'd find some way to survive. Lannisters seemed to have a knack for daring escapes.

Returning her focus to Brienne once more, Amarah wondered why Jaime would have shared such news with her knight. "How did you learn of this?"

"When I arrived at the Lannister camp to tell Ser Jaime of your captivity at the brotherhood's hand, he had a letter from the queen. It begged him to return to the capital to fight as her champion in a trial by combat."

Amarah's heart tripped a bit, faltering in its steady beat at Brienne's unexpected words. "Where is this letter?" she finally managed to ask once her heart had settled into its normal pace once more.

A rare flicker of a smile turned up the edges of Brienne's normally serious mouth before she replied. "He ordered it burned, my lady. We left to find you that very night."

"Why are you telling me this?" Amarah questioned Brienne, her brain lost in a muddle of confusion and pleasure. If what Brienne said was true, then Jaime had chosen her, not the queen. He had come for _her_. But Amarah's logical mind rebelled against the thought. How could Jaime have abandoned the sister he had loved since birth to save her?

As if she could read Amarah's thoughts, Brienne hastened to reassure her of Jaime's loyalty. "He cares for you, my lady. Perhaps more than you might think. I simply thought you should know."

With those words, she gave a quick, shallow bow before promptly departing, leaving Amarah in an even more baffled state than before. Her confusion persisted into the evening, through dinner and game of cards with Gendry who thought her distracted state merely a sign of her weariness. She was content to leave him with that impression.

That night as she tossed and turned, in vain trying to chase the sweet dreams of slumber, she kept replaying Brienne's words over and over again in her mind. _He cares for you, my lady. Perhaps more than you might think._ Could he truly care for her as she did him? She knew he lusted for her. Last night had been proof enough of that, but was it possible his regard for her went deeper than mere physical attraction? After what seemed an eternity of restless moving about, Amarah came to a decision. Bolting up from the sheets with a start, she threw the covers away in haste before rising from the bed.

Treading silently across the cold floor on the soft pads of her bare feet, she quietly pushed the door open to find Brienne slumped against the wall outside her chamber, snoring contentedly in peaceful sleep. Tip-toeing past the snoozing knight, Amarah crossed the hall to another door directly opposite hers. At dinner, Gendry had informed her that Jaime had taken the room nearest hers, and she was grateful now for the boy's talkative state. She had questions that needed answering, and if Jaime refused to come to her then she would find him instead.

Without waiting for an invitation, Amarh pushed the door back on its hinges before entering the dimly lit room. By the far wall stood a small writing desk with a single, lit candle flickering in the darkness. Seated before the desk sat Jaime with his back turned towards her. His torso was bare revealing the smooth expanse of his back and lean definition of his shoulders and arms.

Not expecting to find him in such a state of undress, Amarah felt an involuntary shiver of desire as she gazed at him in the dark. He must have sensed her presence, because he turned then with a start, pinning her with his lion's gaze. Every carefully thought out word Amarah had planned to say instantly flew from her head at the sight of him. What was it she had meant to say again?

As she continued to stand there in silence, her back pressed against the rough wood of the closed door, Jaime's golden brows knit together in confusion. "Amarah?" he questioned, rising from his seat and coming towards her.

The closer he came, the farther back she shrank against the immovable door, trying desperately to remember the words she had meant to say. When she did speak, it wasn't the words she had so desperately searched for. In fact, she didn't mean to say the words at all. They simply came tumbling from her mouth before she could stop them, spilling out at his feet like a sinner's confession.

"I... I love you."

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_Should I let these two finally make sweet love? Hmm… You'll just have to keep reading to find out:) Maybe they will. Maybe they won't. We'll see! Thanks so much for reading! Please review!_


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: **_Thanks so much for the amazing reviews! So here is THE chapter. I hope it lives up to the expectations. I wanted to make it steamy and romantic while staying true to their personalities, so I hope I was able to accomplish that. Enjoy!_

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"I… I love you."

Jaime had almost reached the spot where the princess stood when he stopped abruptly at the unexpected words that fell from her lips. There had been few times in life when he found himself at a loss for words. In fact, he couldn't remember that he ever _had_ been, but now he could only stare at the girl before him with a dumbfounded expression. His mind screamed at him to say something in reply, but his silver tongue seemed to have turned to lead in his mouth.

Amarah appeared as stunned as he by her surprising confession. Her grey eyes rounded in shock as soon as the words left her mouth, and something akin to horror crossed her face as she waited for his response. When he neglected to give any reaction at all, she immediately tried to cover her embarrassment with a shaky smile.

Glancing at him with feigned casualness, she tried to act as if nothing was amiss at all. "Well, good evening then" she spoke quickly, the words blending together in a rush, before she turned to leave with even greater haste.

When he realized that she intended to leave him, Jaime's muscles finally sprang into action. To keep her from escaping, he swiftly grabbed her to him her just as her hand closed around the handle of the door. Her back was to him, but he had managed to wrap his arm with the golden hand around her small waist, trapping her between the solid wood and his hard frame.

Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Come now, Princess, you don't intend to leave me now after that revelation."

Amarah turned her head slightly to shoot him a haughty look, despite her undignified position. "Oh, did you hear that? From your silence, I doubted you even noticed I had spoken."

"I heard" Jaime murmured absently, ignoring her irritation in favor of placing a warm kiss on the delicate shell of her ear.

When he felt her tremble in his arms at the gentle touch, he gave a dark smile. After last evening he had tried to keep his distance, not wanting to force his attentions on her when she so clearly needed time to regain her strength. But after hearing that little confession from her lips, he was done trying to deny them both of what they needed so desperately. He wanted the words to tell her how he felt, but he had never been a man of knightly promises and pretty words that women wanted to hear. Instead, he would have to show her what he felt. Show her how she consumed him so completely. Perhaps what he felt for her was love, but he didn't want to think about that now. He just needed to be inside her.

"You shouldn't be up, Princess" he took the time to growl in between taking love bites along the slender line of her neck. "It's time you went back to bed."

She twisted her head once more to give him a confused look. "But I thought you just said – "

Her words broke off abruptly as he swung her into his arms and carried her to his bed at the far end of the room. After he laid her against the cool sheets, he smiled at the befuddled look on her pretty face. "I never said it would be _your_ bed" he informed her with a satisfied smirk, before quickly stripping off his breeches and joining her in the bed, as naked as his name day.

However, as he bent his head to kiss her, she raised her arms to push at his shoulders, holding him at bay. "Wait!" she protested. "You can't just… just…" she sputtered to a halt then, clearly unsure how to say it.

Jaime was torn between restless impatience and amusement at the sign of her maidenly modestly. "I assure you, Princess, I _can_" he returned before bending his head once more. He tried not to groan in frustration as she pushed at his shoulders once again.

When he looked into her eyes once more, he saw the frustration he felt mirrored there. "You can't just… _fuck_ me!" she finally found the word she had been struggling to stay. "I said that I loved you, not that I wanted a tumble in your bed!"

From the burgeoning anger in her gaze, Jaime knew that he would have to tread carefully. He didn't want to just "fuck" her, as she seemed to think. Cersei had been the only woman he had ever known in such an intimate way, and she had always reveled in how fast and rough he could be. It was the only type of lovemaking he had ever known. He didn't know how to behave any differently. Taking a deep breath to calm the blood rushing to certain parts of his eager body, he realized he would have to find a different way. This girl was not Cersei. She was different. He needed to treat her differently.

Raising his golden hand to her pretty face, Jaime stroked the smooth skin of her cheek before speaking. "I don't want to _fuck_ you" he asserted, emphasizing the crudity of the word. "I wanted to make love to you, but apparently I've gone about it all wrong. I'm afraid you'll have to show me how."

"I've little experience at making love" she reminded him with a slight frown. "But I think perhaps you should move a bit slower."

Jaime gave another wicked smile and leaned down to kiss her once more, but this time he didn't try to kiss her directly on that tempting mouth. Instead, he took her bandaged hand and laid a soft kiss on the wrapped linen before trailing a string of kisses up her arm and over her shoulder, taking his time to pay particular attention to the sensitive skin under the curve of her neck.

"Like that?" he hummed softly in her ear before moving to take the other arm.

He heard her breath hitch in her throat as he licked the tender skin at her elbow before she answered. "Yes" she said in a breathy voice. "Something like that."

Once he had trailed the last kiss over her pale shoulder, Jaime reached for the hem of the thin chemise that she wore, slowly raising the delicate material to reveal one bit of tempting flesh at a time. After she was bared to his gaze, Jaime moved his hand to her soft thighs, pressing his fingers into the silky skin that warmed rapidly under his touch. Glancing up, Jaime saw Amarah's lids drooping in pleasure, but she still watched him closely as he trailed his fingers across her heated flesh. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he continued to brush his fingers across her soft skin, with each sweep, his hand moving higher and higher where he wanted it most.

Just as he was about to touch her, Jaime stopped his roaming fingers momentarily, giving her a teasing look. "Is this slow enough, Princess?"

The look of pleasure in her eyes dissipated for just a moment as she opened her mouth to speak, but her mouth snapped shut once again releasing a moan of pleasure as he rewarded her with his wicked touch. He swept his thumb roughly against the center of her pleasure to see how she would like it, and he was rewarded for the effort with another breathless moan. She was wet for him now, and he took advantage of her slickness to slide two fingers into her warmth.

As he worked her with his fingers, her droopy lids slid fully shut while she threw her curly head against the soft pillows of his bed, arching her hips forward, searching eagerly for more. He rewarded the silent plea by replacing his caressing thumb with his mouth, alternating between sucking on her flesh and rotating his fingers in a steady rhythm, bringing her to the brink of pleasure. Just as he felt her on the precipice of desire, Jaime removed his hand, keeping her from the release she so desperately wanted.

"No!" she cried out in dismay at the thwarted release. "Jaime, I – " but her words of displeasure were cut short by his mouth eagerly returning to hers once more. His patience was slowly starting to erode away, leaving a primitive, burning desire in its place. He was through with the teasing and games. He had to have her. _Now._

She must have sensed the desperation in his kiss, because she offered no resistance and readily opened her mouth to accept his tongue. As he licked every delectable part of her mouth, Jaime broke away for a moment to pin her with his burning gaze. "No more waiting" he told her with a forceful shake of his golden head to emphasize the point. Without waiting for a response, he returned to their kiss once more, ravaging her mouth with bruising force. His fear that he might frighten her away with his savagery was instantly erased by the pleasured moan she rewarded his kiss.

As they kissed, she moved her hands to cradle his face and pull him closer, and he mirrored her actions, accidentally knocking her skull a bit too hard with his golden hand. Taking a moment to move his mouth to kiss the spot in silent apology, he noticed her eyes had flown open once more. Despite his command moments before, he stopped for a moment, giving her a chance to voice her thoughts; for it was clear she had something to say.

Once he had stilled for a moment, Amarah stretched out her fingers to encircle the golden wrist of his forged hand. "You don't need this with me" she informed him softly, all the love she had professed for him a short while ago shining in the grey depths of her eyes.

Jaime felt something stir deep inside him at her words, something that had nothing to do with their torrid embrace. When she looked at him like that, he was helpless to deny her anything she asked. With halting movements, he moved back far enough to fumble with the leather straps that held the hand to the stump on his arm. As he glared at the troublesome thing in frustration, he saw a slender hand replace his, gently removing the golden hand and placing it on the wooden table by the bed.

With the golden hand gone, Amarah then looked at him with a lazy smile that caused him to harden once again. "Make love to me, Jaime."

He didn't need to be told twice. Settling comfortably between her spread thighs, Jaime moved his hand to the thin chemise that still covered her breasts and promptly tore it in half with a harsh rip. Once her beautiful breasts were bared to his gaze, he moved his head to kiss them reverently, even as his hand moved lower to place his hardness at the warm core of her womanhood.

She stiffened slightly at the feel of him there, but Jaime tried to direct her thoughts elsewhere by sucking greedily on her sensitive nipples, wringing another pleasured groan from her once again. With her sufficiently distracted, he took advantage of her relaxed state to swiftly bury himself inside her warmth. As he broke through her maidenhead, he moved his mouth to hers once again to swallow her cry of pain.

It hurt him to see the shimmering tears in her eyes, and he swiftly moved to kiss the wetness from her cheeks. "Forgive me" he whispered, holding still inside her until she grew more accustomed to his invasion.

Amarah gave him a watery smile at his whispered apology. "Just make it good" she ordered light-heartedly.

Jaime returned the smile with one of his own. "It will be my pleasure, Princess."

Once she seemed more comfortable, Jaime withdrew slightly, gritting his teeth at the exquisite friction. He couldn't stop until she felt the same pleasure as he. Sinking into her warmth once more, he felt her move slightly towards him, as if searching for the same spark of pleasure. He gave her an encouraging smile, before ordering her to hold on.

Beginning a slow, steady rhythm, Jaime watched her face as she discovered the pleasure of making love. After a few hesitant strokes on his part, he felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders, pressing their naked chests together and rubbing her luscious teats against the hard planes of his chest. He gave a loud groan of satisfaction as he quickened the pace, forcing her to stay with him. As he plunged in and out with hard, penetrating strokes, he moved his arms to her thighs, pushing them upwards towards her shoulders above.

She shot him a questioning glance but he merely encouraged her to follow his lead. "Just trust me" he murmured before pressing her legs firmly apart, the new position allowing him to stroke even deeper inside her, almost knocking against her womb as he continued his steady rhythm.

Jaime was almost spent. He could feel the pleasure closing in around him, but he had to give it to her first. Catching her mouth in another of those savage kisses, Jaime thrust his tongue deeply, imitating the actions of his hips below. His lungs forged like bellows as he struggled to hold the pleasure at bay.

Breaking off the kiss to move his lips to her ear, he panted a harsh order for her to give in. "Come for me, Princess."

Instantly, he was rewarded by the feel of her stiffening in his arms as she finally found fulfillment, and he moved his mouth quickly to hers once more, swallowing her cry of pleasure. He stayed with her through the height of the climax, but once the tremors began to subside, Jaime finally let the savage loose. He pumped in and out of her with rapid, deep strokes, seeking release, until he gave a cry of his own, throwing his golden head back in ecstasy as he came hard and fast.

Afterwards, he fell against her, panting heavily as he tried to gather his thoughts once more. Conscious of the fact that he must be suffocating Amarah with his hard form, Jaime flipped them over so that she was lying on top with him settled comfortably beneath. He didn't withdraw from her just then, enjoying the long-awaited pleasure for a few moments more.

With him still inside her, Amarah gave a look of immense satisfaction before pressing a kiss to his hard chest beneath her mouth. "Why haven't we done that sooner?" she wondered aloud.

Jaime couldn't hold back a bark of laughter at her devilish smile. "It's no fault of mine. I've offered numerous times before" he returned with a matching smirk before finally withdrawing from her welcoming warmth and rolling her gently aside as he rose from the bed.

She gazed at him sleepily as he soon returned with a warm rag to wash away the evidence of her virginity. Amarah opened her mouth to protest as he moved the rag to the dark stain between her thighs, but Jaime silenced her quickly with a hard look.

"Keep that pretty mouth quiet for once" he told her before scrubbing away at the dried blood.

Amarah shot him an annoyed look, but stayed silent until he was finished. Once she was scrubbed clean, Jaime rose to quickly rinse the rag in a basin of water before returning to the bed once again. Wrapping his good arm around her waist, Jaime pulled her to him until her dark head rested comfortably on his chest and she gave a contented sigh.

He knew she was close to the point of sleep, but Jaime wanted give her some reassurance of his affections. He didn't want her to think he had used her merely to satisfy his lust. "I know you want to hear loving words" he told her, softly stroking the curls on her head as he spoke. "I may not be a poet or bard who can express my love the way a woman wants to hear, but know the words are there, even if I can't say them aloud."

Amarah lifted her head slightly to regard him with a gentle smile. "Those words are enough for now" she reassured him, pressing her lips gently to his before resting her head on his naked chest once more.

"I don't know what you see in me that's worthy of love" Jaime mused aloud, still a bit surprised at her honest affection for him. "I'm not a good man, Princess."

He felt her smile against his chest, but she didn't look at him again. "I'll take my chances" she mumbled sleepily before they both fell silent.

A short time later, he knew she had fallen asleep by the sound of her deep, even breathing. Before following her into slumber, Jaime gazed at her peaceful face for a moment, praying to the gods she believed in that he wouldn't be a chance she regretted taking.

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_I hope it was worth the wait:) Any thoughts or comments are greatly appreciated. As always, thank you for reading!_


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for all the amazing reviews! Sorry for the three months delay with this one, but I'm working on another story at the moment, so I took some time off of this one to work on that. (I'm not done with that story yet either, so it will still cause delays with this one.) Anyway, I felt really bad about neglecting this story and Amarah/Jaime, so I made sure to carve out a block of time last week to write this next update. I'm definitely not finished with the story, though, so please don't worry that I've abandoned it. Most of the frequent updates will start back up again in the summer when I have the time off of work. So please just bear with my infrequent updates until then. Your patience with me is very much appreciated:) Anyway, here's the new chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!_

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Amarah opened her eyes the following morning to find a rather cheerful Jaime Lannister peering down at her from under dun colored lashes. "Good morning," she mumbled a bit shyly on seeing his pleased expression, with very little doubt in her mind as to what had put him in the uncharacteristically happy mood.

He answered her polite comment with the grin of an intent debaucher before pulling her naked form underneath his in a movement so swift, she wasn't entirely sure how he had accomplished it. "It could be a better morning," he returned in a sleep-graveled voice laden with seduction.

"Jaime!" Amarah sputtered indignantly at his lusty remark, but the protest was somewhat undermined by the startled laugh that escaped her lips at his brazen behavior. "I've think we've done quite enough of that for now."

She sensed his disagreement rather than glimpsed it as he presently had his face buried in the crook between her neck and chin, gently nuzzling the delicate skin there at a leisurely pace that belied his urgency of moments ago. "There can never be enough of _that_, Princess," he murmured while never abandoning his gentle exploration.

"Overindulgence can many times lead to eventual dissatisfaction," Amarah reasoned aloud in a remarkably clear state of mind despite the nearly six feet of aroused male currently pressed against her.

Jaime gave a clearly audible sigh at her continued resistance toward his plans for more lovemaking before rolling off reluctantly to plop beside her with a dull thump. "Gods save me from the logic of women," she heard him grumble in ill-concealed annoyance.

"You don't believe in the gods," Amarah was quick to remind him.

Jaime considered her observation for a brief moment before he started towards her again, a silent warning in his jade colored eyes that cautioned her to tread carefully. "Do you know what happens to impertinent little stags foolish enough to poke the hungry lion with their horns?"

"I'm certain I'll soon find out."

Amarah was annoyed to find a breathless tone creeping into her voice that caused her to sound suspiciously like those silly maidens who would spend countless hours at court dreaming of the golden knight Jaime Lannister. She had always fancied herself so much wiser than those ridiculous females. Now she wasn't so certain.

Jaime made certain to pin her securely beneath him, effectively cutting off any means of escape, before replying. "The lion devours them, of course."

Amarah was sorely tempted to let him have his way with her after that deliciously sinful response, but a niggling doubt in the back of her mind prevented her from succumbing wholly to his sensual pull. "Before the devouring commences," she held off his advance with a pale hand pressed gently to his shoulder. "There's something I wished to talk about."

"You sorely try my patience, woman," Jaime informed her, the passionate light in his eyes dimmed slightly by annoyance at yet another delay.

Amarah returned his ire with a pleading look. "Please, Jaime."

"Very well," he finally agreed, but his frustrated groan made it clear that he was not pleased by the request.

Amarah waited for him to remove himself from atop her after his compliant response, but when he neglected to shift even an inch she regarded him with a raised brow. "Do you plan to lie atop me for the duration of this talk?"

"We can converse as well from this position as any other," came the smug response, accompanied by a superior expression which hinted at his belief that he had managed to regain the upper hand. "Tell me, Princess, what is so important that we must discuss it instead of indulging more satisfying pursuits?"

"You're beginning to sound like Tyrion."

Jaime's look darkened with ill concealed displeasure at her evasion of his question. "Amarah."

"Very well," she huffed before complying with the tersely worded order to proceed. She knew the topic must be addressed, but she was loathed to speak the words aloud. "What has happened between you and Cersei since we last parted?"

She had half-expect Jaime's eyes to darken in anger at the mention of his sister, as they always had when she broached the topic in past conversation between the two, but he surprised her by returning the question with an even tempered gaze that reflected more curiosity than anger. "Why do you wish to speak of her?"

"Because even when she is not present, you sister haunts me like a ghost reluctant to release her hold on you. How do I know unless I hear it from your own lips that I'm not some convenient cunt to rut in while your thoughts remain solely of her."

Jaime's face drew back a fraction at her blunt language. "Is that what you think?"

"Sometimes that doubt creeps into my mind," Amarah finally confessed after several moments of taught silence. Her pride made it hard to speak the words aloud, that Cersei might forever retain the heart of the man that she wanted for her own, but now that the words and doubt had been spoken aloud for him to hear, she felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Jaime contemplated her request for a few moments with his golden brows drawn together in a contemplative look as he searched for the right words to put her mind at ease. "Most of my life I dreamed of my sister," he finally spoke, but the words did little to put Amarah's doubts to rest. "I loved her greatly, more so that any other person in this world. I always dreamed of her and none else. That was all I ever knew, the love I had for her. Then I saw the truth of what she was, that I had loved an illusion of what I thought her to be. I saw that she could never love me as much as she did herself."

While he spoke, Jaime's gaze had looked past Amarah's, wandering somewhere in the distance of a recollected memory, but then it returned to hers with stunning force as his gaze burned bright green in his skull, searing her with its intensity. "When I left the capital, my dreams started to change." He continued to speak but reached up his one hand to clasp hers and drag it down between their bodies to the place where his desire for her was most evident. "I dreamed of a little dark haired princess with cool, grey eyes and a sharp, biting tongue who had invaded my thoughts so completely till I could think of nothing else but her. I dreamed of these hands," he emphasized, pressing the one he held captive against his arousal. "Of this mouth."

He ceased speaking for a brief instant in order to reward that mouth with a thorough kiss that left Amarah rather breathless once he pulled back to finish his thoughts. "When that wench of yours told me that you needed my help, I didn't hesitate to come. I'll always come for you, Princess. Doubt my honor if you wish. Doubt the goodness of my black soul. Gods, doubt anything else you wish, but never doubt that I care for you. You're not a convenient _cunt_." She flinched a bit at the crude word he flung back in her face. "You're the woman I'd very much like to rut with."

Amarah couldn't help the smirk that turned up one corner of her mouth as he finished such a lovely speech with such a male sentiment. Once she was certain he was finished speaking, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "You may devour me now."

He wasted no time in complying with her request. As Jaime plunged in and out of her body with relentless force, sweeping her mind away on a tide of passion, she heard him command something of her before he would allow her the release she craved. "Never doubt that, Princess."

She was beyond the capability of speech, but she pulled him into a desperate kiss that conveyed the promise she wished to give. Never again. With a satisfied smile, Jaime gave her what she wanted before following into the pleasurable abyss.

* * *

Amarah stared at the beast before her with a growing sense of unease. She had informed Jaime and Brienne that she was perfectly capable of traveling to the Quiet Isle, and she had fully believed her own words when she had uttered them that morning. Though, now that she was faced with proving her words, she wasn't so certain to the truth of them anymore.

"You usually have to mount them yourself. Staring doesn't generally get the job done" came a teasing voice in her ear.

Amarah turned to give Gendry a less than amused expression. "Thank you for deigning to share with me your vast knowledge of horses. Now be gone with you." She gave the curt dismissal with a distracted wave of her hand before turning her attention back to the problem before her.

Gendry paid no heed to her attempt to disregard him and moved to stand beside her as she pondered her difficult situation. "It's not a smooth journey to the Quiet Isle," he reminded her in a low voice so the other soldiers milling around wouldn't hear. "You can ride with me if you like."

"An attempt to soothe your guilty conscience?" Amarah questioned him with a raised brow.

"And what if it is?" he asked in return. "Isn't this entire search we find ourselves in due to the guilty conscience you harbor over abandoning your cousin to the blood thirsty lions?"

Amarah quickly pulled him towards her in an effort to hush his increasing volume. "Be careful who you insult," she warned him in an urgent whisper. "They are the very men who escort us now." Once she was certain Gendry could keep his hot-blooded temper in check, she took the time to address the charge he laid at her door.

"I had no choice but to leave the capital. Had I stayed, Sansa would still be lost to the Lannisters and my head would have accompanied my uncle's along the spikes of the city gates."

"Whether you were afforded the choice or not, the guilt still stays," he wisely pried the truth from her words.

"You're rather clever sometimes for a blacksmith's apprentice," she told him then, attempting to leave the conversation of her guilt behind.

The tactic seemed to work, because an amused smile graced Gendrey's handsome features at her generous estimation of his intellect. "Your words do well to soothe my injured pride," he informed her with a secretive smile that she did not entirely understand. "I've been told before that I'm a stupid boy much of the time."

"Who would – ?" Amarah began to question him about the source of the insult before they were interrupted by the towering form of Brienne.

"My lady, it's time to leave."

Amarah nodded her head in agreement and glanced towards the snorting creature before her with an apprehensive look. "I'll be riding with Gendry," she finally informed her faithful knight, before departing in the direction of Gendry's mount.

Brienne's long legged stride easily fell into step beside her as they moved through the swarm of armored soldiers. "Lannister will not approve."

Amarah delayed her brisk pace at Brienne's warning. "Why do you say he would disapprove?"

Instead of replying, Brienne inclined her head toward the man in question who stood several paces away with a dark look brewing on his face that slightly resembled the black clouds that clustered above in the stony sky.

"Leave him to me," Amarah assured Gendry who sported a look of slight trepidation once he had caught sight of Jaime's countenance as well. "Just give me a moment."

After making her excuses, Amarah changed course in direction of the glowering knight. When she had last seen him, he had been sleeping peacefully as she had slipped quietly from his bed to return to her own. If the look on his face was any indication, he felt significantly less peaceful now.

"You're likely to scare the horses looking like that," Amarah commented lightly as she approached him.

Jaime's mouth, which was hardened into a firm line of displeasure, failed to relax at her humorous observation. "You'll not ride with the boy."

She didn't even attempt to argue with his abrupt order, choosing instead to pursue a different tact. "What's put you in such a foul mood?"

"Perhaps waking to find a cold space beside me," he returned, drawing closer so that only she could hear his bitterness fill words. "It's not terribly flattering to find your lover gone without a word, as if your coupling were an unclean secret not fit for the knowledge of others."

On hearing his heated words, Amarah understood the reason for his soured mood. She had unintentionally made him feel the way Cersei had for all his life. As if she didn't care for him enough to let others know the truth of her affection. Reaching out to clasp his forged hand, she waited until his eyes were on her before answering his accusation.

"I didn't leave because I was ashamed," she hastened to set his mind at ease. "I'm an unmarried woman of noble birth, and it would besmirch my reputation and the shame name of my house were it known I took a man to my bed outside the marriage vows. Please understand the caution I must take."

Jaime's hard, glittering gaze softened the slightest fraction. "Your house has suffered worse blows than word of a Baratheon taking a Lannister to her bed."

"Even so, I've no wish to cause any further damage than has already been done."

"Then we'll exercise greater caution if that is what you wish," Jaime answered with an expression that turned suddenly bored.

Amarah frowned slightly at the shuttered look in his eyes that kept her from seeing his thoughts. He had been angry before, but now she wasn't entirely certain how he felt about her request to keep the finer details their relationship from the prying eyes of others.

"Thank you for understanding," was all she could think to say before moving to return to Gendry despite Jaime's earlier order.

However, the sound of his voice held her footsteps in check. "Are you in any discomfort?"

Amarah considered the possibility that he might be referring to her slow recovery from illness but knew the true source of his question was the current raw soreness between her legs. "A little," she admitted softly, a flushed heat stealing up the back of her neck all the way to her delicate ears.

Jaime's shuttered expression turned slightly remorseful then. "I should not have taken you more than once."

Glancing back up at him, Amarah cautiously sidled a bit closer until her lips were close enough to touch the outer shell of his ear. "I would have let you take me ten times that if you had wished."

There was no guessing his thoughts now. Giving a pleased smile of feminine satisfaction at the heated look he rewarded her softly worded confession, Amarah left him there to return to her escort. She could feel his gaze burning into her as she crossed the field once again to find Gendry but resisted the urge to turn back.

Once she had been pulled into the saddle alongside the hard muscled blacksmith, Amarah found Jaime seated comfortably atop his own mount, ready to lead them out. Ignoring the twinge of discomfort in certain regions of her person she didn't care to think about, Amarah attempted to settle in for the journey. As they began a slow canter over the uneven ground, she felt a sense of growing expectation slowly settle around her. It was time to hunt the Hound.

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_So there it is! More of a morning-after scene to give Amarah and Jaime a little time of peace before the storm, but next chapter we really get back in the swing of things to hunt down Sandor Clegane. I'm so exited about adding him into the mix and working in all of the little plot points that are beginning to come together. All comments are always appreciated! Thank you so so much for reading!_


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Note: **_Thank you so much for the continued support! The wonderfully kind reviews and nice comments mean a lot:) All right, for our next chapter we're back into the full swing of things with the plot. There is a tad bit of exposition in here that's necessary to explain the new surroundings, but there's also some new and interesting developments to keep things moving along. Enjoy!_

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The place was more pleasant than she had remembered from before. After their long, meandering trek through the mud to reach the small space of land that jutted up at the mouth of the trident, Amarah was able to take a moment in order to absorb the serene beauty of the rural surroundings. The great war had not yet touched this small religious community that housed the Faith of the Seven, and Amarah now found herself more appreciative of the tranquil scene. Only the gods knew how long this Quiet Isle would escape the destruction caused by the kingdom's never ending struggle for power.

As she took in the sight of wooly sheep grazing on the grassy slope leading up to the sept, Amarah was struck by a wave of reminiscence that caused the hard line of her mouth to quirk up in a delighted expression.

"What are you smiling about?" Gendry asked from beside her when he caught sight of the fond expression.

Amarah turned to give him the most benevolent expression she had ever deigned to grace him with in their short acquaintance. "I was thinking of Storm's End, the seat of our family house."

She had intended to explain further until Gendry abruptly cut her off with a swift movement of his hand, slicing through the air in a gesture of denial. "Not _mine_, m'lady. I'm merely a bastard of your great house, or had you forgotten?"

"Technicalities," Amarah brushed off his concern of illegitimacy with a nonchalant air. "As I was saying," she gave him a hard look then that heartily discouraged any further interruptions. "Looking at the land here reminded me of the seat of House Baratheon. You've never seen a more beautiful sight than Storm's End in the first blush of spring. I'm likely more biased in my opinion than others, but I'd dare to call it one of the most breathtaking sights in all the seven kingdoms. The quiet loveliness here caused me to think of it for a moment is all."

"Thinking of home then were you?" Gendry murmured, giving her a look then that approached something dangerously close to brotherly affection.

The observation gave Amarah a moment of pause. She had never actually considered the place to be home as only Winterfell had ever been a true home to her, but the idea was not an entirely objectionable one. When she had thrown her support behind Renly in his quest to take possession of the iron throne, he had promised to give her the seat in exchange for her support, and she had been more than willing to make the exchange. After his death, she had barely taken the time to consider the fact that the stronghold was probably lost to her forever. Her face must have shown the glum direction of her thoughts because her meandering through the forgotten memories was interrupted by the sound of Gendry's voice.

"I suppose it isn't very much home anymore."

Amarah turned to regard him with a quizzical look. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What?" Gendry returned with an equally baffled look.

"Saying what it is I'm thinking. It's most unnerving."

Gendry thought about that for a moment, the look on his face one of deep reflection. "Perhaps we're more alike than we first thought."

"Oh, no, we're not," Amarah was quick to correct him, but her words of disagreement seemed a bit at odds with the mischievous look in her eyes.

"And why do you say that?" Gendry questioned.

"I'm much prettier than you, of course."

The look on his face indicated that he did not understand her lighthearted response at first, but gradually a look of understanding dawned in his sapphire eyes before an amused smile began stretching the corners of his normally serious mouth. They burst out laughing at the same time in response to her nonsense. Both shared in the unexpected moment of mirth for a short time before their humor was abruptly ended by the sound of a curt voice.

"If you're two are finished carrying on with one another, we'll be going to meet the brothers now."

Amarah looked up into the very annoyed face of Jaime Lannister. "We're _quite_ finished," she informed him with a bright smile that she knew would irritate him even further before taking the hand he offered. Once he pulled her from the squishy mud onto the grassy earth, she took a moment to knock the caked mud from her skirts before rising once again to find him still looking at her with an expression that had been restored to his normal look of detached arrogance.

It took a supreme effort for Amarah not to roll her eyes in a childish way at his continued surliness regarding Gendry. She had informed him the previous day when they left the inn that Gendry was her brother due to another of her father's many endless entanglements with tavern wenches. The news had set him at ease somewhat, but there was still a faint hostility simmering in his gaze whenever he looked at the young blacksmith.

Amarah had borne his behavior in silence till then, but the attitude was beginning to grate on her nerves. "Oh for the love of the gods, Jaime," she blurted out with a look of extreme impatience. "Not all of us have such a liberal view of sibling relations as you."

His mask of boredom slipped just a bit to show a bare glimmer of hurt before it was promptly in place an instant later, but the flash of feeling was enough to cause Amarah to immediately regret her choice of words. She reached towards him to apologize for the poorly worded thought, but he quickly shook off her touch with an impatient brush of his hand.

"I'm relieved to see illness and captivity has done nothing to dull the sharpness of that tongue," he said in an even voice that was betrayed only by the barest waver hinting at his goaded temper. "Just see that you and the boy keep up with the rest of the company. We've not much time for unneeded delays."

With that he was gone from her side, returning to his place at the head of the company to lead them towards the sept where their search for the hound was meant to begin. Amarah gave a deep sigh of resignation, but rejected the thought of following after him to try and apologize once more.

Gendry had just managed to clamber up onto solid ground in order to catch sight of Jaime's retreating back. He looked at her with a guilty expression before opening his mouth to apologize. "Forgive me if I – "

"It's not you," Amarah broke in with a dejected shake of her curly head. "Jaime and I will always be too clever for our own good I'm afraid."

Her tone of voice indicated that the discussion was at an end, and Gendry was of no mind to argue with her. She began trekking up the hill after the others, and he followed closely behind. As they climbed toward the Brow of the Hill which housed most of the brothers on the island, Brienne returned from her position at head of the company to follow alongside her mistress and her blacksmith companion.

As the island could only be reached on foot when the tide was out for a short period during the day, Brienne had been the one chosen to lead their little party, and the few men Jaime had chosen to accompany them, through the safe parts of the mudflats to reach the diminutive island a short distance from the mainland. She had proven a most capable guide, leading through the almost impossible maze of passable earth to bring them to the island, and Amarah made certain to voice her approval when the lady knight rejoined them once again.

"Thank you, my lady," Brienne accepted the compliment with a gracious nod of her head, but a faint blush indicated her pleasure at accomplishing the task so competently.

Neither of them spoke again until the top of the slope had been reached and the wooden sept used for the brothers' prayers could be clearly seen. As they approached the humble structure, Amarah caught sight of a familiar figure walking towards them across the pebbled path. As a part of their vows, the brothers of the isle had been sworn to complete silence in order to better serve the Seven. Only one brother of high ranking was permitted on certain days to break that silence in order to communicate with those that visited the island.

When they last visited the isle, Brienne had first caught sight of Brother Gillam in the stables where he tended to the animals, but he had not been permitted to speak with them on that day. From the sight of him approaching them now, Amarah deduced that it was now his given day to converse freely. He greeted them kindly as they approached, confirming her suspicions.

"It's somewhat of a surprise to see you again so soon, my lady," he said, directing the words toward Amarah who had done most of the talking for their little party when they last visited.

"We hope to intrude on your hospitality only a bit further, Brother," Amarah returned the welcome. "Once we were gone, we discovered much to our regret that there had been matters we had not discussed fully enough with the Elder Brother."

"We are of course glad to welcome you here," he assured with a benign expression. "I'll inform the Elder Brother of your wish to see him, but he is saying prayers at present. I cannot say when he will be able to see you."

He seemed not as eager to welcome them to the island as he professed, but Amarah put the lack of hospitality down to the fact that he spent most of his life in perpetual silence. "Thank you. We would be most grateful to be shown a place to rest until the Elder Brother is ready to receive us."

"Follow me," he gestured for their small company to trail after him. He led them along a path overgrown with weeds and briers toward a group of cottages past the sept and stables where most of the brothers were gathered as they went about their everyday tasks.

They were all clad in the customary uniform of dun and brown cowls that hid their faces from view. Only Brother Gillam's face was slightly exposed with a tuft of straw, blond hair poking out from underneath the hood of his robe. Uninterested in the sight of the nondescript workers toiling away at their duties, Amarah let her gaze roam across the land before it landed on the plot of earth a short way down the hill reserved for the graves of the island's dead or the unfortunate perished souls who happened to wash upon the shores.

On that particular section of land, a lone figure stood out against the blue sky, working busily to tear up the hard packed ground in order to dig fresh graves. Amarah had caught sight of the man when they were last there, and their guide Brother Narbert had explained that the man's job was virtually endless due to the many corpses that continued to find their way ashore after the brutal attack on the Saltpans. From the look of the man's hard labor, his burden had lessened not at all since their departure from the island weeks ago.

Amarah was about to turn away from the sight when the man took a moment away from his work to reach his arms outward, stretching muscles that were surely sore from so many hours of work. As he stood to his full height, a surprisingly massive height which surpassed that of even Brienne's tall frame, Amarah was struck by an odd feeling of recognition. Halting her progress for just a moment, she narrowed her eyes to better examine the mysterious figure, but he was too far and his face too well concealed for her to discern any features that might identify him. Shaking her head at the fanciful notion that the brother was somehow known to her, Amarah quickly rushed on to catch up with the rest of her party. She didn't realize how long she had taken to inspect the mysterious gravedigger until she had wandered almost to the other side of the island to locate her companions.

"The ladies will stay here away from the rest of the men," Brother Gillam was explaining as Amarah arrived at the cottages where they were to stay. "The rest of your party is welcome to sleep in the cloisters with the brothers."

"Very well," Amarah heard Jaime reply to the Brother's offer, but he didn't look greatly pleased about the offering.

He had managed to sneak into her tent in the quiet darkness of night when they had made camp the evening before, but with these cottages on the opposite side of the island and Brienne sharing the small space with her, there would be no chance for nighttime encounters here. For a man of Jaime's lusty appetites, the realization could hardly have been a welcome one.

"Evening meal will be served in the sept just before dusk if you should care to attend," the Brother continued, oblivious to the thoughts of his guests.

Amarah nodded her head in acceptance of the invitation. Perhaps the meal would afford her an opportunity to closer inspect the man who had piqued her curiosity such a short time ago. The men prepared to leave them then, but Amarah didn't want she and Jaime to part with her bitter words still hanging between them. Refusing to be denied this time, Amarah planted herself firmly in his path as he attempted to follow behind the rest of the men. Aside from quirking a golden brow in response to her action, he did nothing else to encourage her.

It was rather difficult to say the words with him looking at her with such a superior expression, but Amarah somehow managed to force out the apology through slightly gritted teeth. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

Jaime looked as if he expected her to say more, but she returned the look with a defiant glare. "That's all the apology you'll get from me," she informed him before stepping aside to follow Brienne to the cottages.

She barely managed three steps before Jaime caught her arm and deftly swung her back around to face him. "My dislike of the boy doesn't stem from the fear that he'll get up your skirts," he informed her with an expression that was more serious now than arrogant. "I simply don't trust him, and it wouldn't harm you to be a bit more discerning in that regard as well. He was, after all, the reason you found yourself almost hanged by a band of outlaws."

"He's sorry for that now," Amarah was quick to point out, unwilling to accept his assessment of Gendry.

Jaime's hard look softened not at all in the face of her loyal defense. "He may have earned your trust, Princess, but mine will not be so easily given."

Seeing that it was an argument she was bound to lose, Amarah accepted his statement with an exasperated sigh but didn't try to dissuade him. He would have to see the truth of Gendry's loyalty on his own without any nagging from her.

"I'll see you at supper then," she ended their conversation with a tired smile before pulling away from his firm grasp.

He let her slip easily from his fingers and left the clearing to rejoin the other men on the path leading back to the other side of the island. Amarah looked back to watch him go before proceeding the rest of the way to join Brienne in the small but serviceable cottage that was meant to house them for the remainder of their stay. Once she had lain down on one of the beds to close her eyes in much needed rest, all thoughts of the mysterious figure at the graves had completely fled her mind.

* * *

Much to her disappointment, Amarah had not been permitted to meet with the Elder Brother that day. When they gathered in the small sept for the supper meal, Brother Gillam told her that he was sorry, but the Elder Brother was concerned with other matters and could not meet with them until the morrow. She was slightly anxious at the thought of yet another delay in their journey but accepted the news with a polite smile before turning her attention to the food before them.

Jaime sat by her right hand side and Brienne at the left, but no one had engaged in much conversation as most of their attention was focused on the meal before them. The brothers newest to the Faith were the ones charged with serving the food, so different robed figures moved in and out of the room carrying various serving trays as those at the table partook in the offering.

Amarah reached out to accept a loaf of barley bread when she glanced up to find a pair of eyes the color of wet stone peeking up over the edge of a cowl to look down on her with intense scrutiny. As soon as she had caught the brother's gaze, he instantly lowered his lids shielding his eyes from her view before moving on to serve the others. Shaken by the encounter, Amarah watched the tall figure limp around the table with the labored stride of one partially lame before she realized that the stony gaze had belonged to the brother she saw digging graves on the hillside earlier in the day.

At such a close distance, he seemed even more familiar than before, further growing the suspicions that had been festering in her mind all day. Once he exited through the large set of carved wooden doors leading outside the sept, she could no longer ignore the overwhelming need to satisfy her curiosity. Making a move to rise from the table, she found her progress impeded by a golden hand pressing into her thigh.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?"

Amarah's mind swiftly searched for a viable excuse that would explain her hasty retreat. "I've certain needs that require attending to," she whispered to Jaime in a voice low enough for only him to hear.

Removing his golden limb, he gave her a skeptical look but made no further attempts to prevent her from leaving. Shooting him a grateful look, Amarah quickly rose from the table to exit through the same doors the limping brother had passed through mere moments ago. She was met with the gentle night breeze rolling in from off the water as she stepped out further into the inky darkness, but she ignored the general pleasantness of the surroundings in favor of hunting down the man who had seemingly disappeared into the night.

Amarah roamed about the gloom in a fruitless search for what seemed like several long minutes before finally preparing to admit defeat. Just as she moved towards the sept to rejoin the others, her ears caught the sound of a joyful bark and she looked towards the source to find Dog, a creature simply named so as the brothers of the Faith didn't seem to be a very inventive lot, running happily towards a barely moving shadow along the side of the stables several paces away.

Intrigued by the sight, Amarah spared no time for rational thought before chasing after the canine to discover the source of the mysterious shadow. When she reached the spot by the stables where she had glimpsed the shadow, she was irritated to find no one there. Swinging about in circles, she squinted into the dark, searching carefully for any hint of life. As she turned away from the glowing light of the sept, she was taken completely unawares by a heavy weight abruptly crashing into her slight figure and pushing her towards the outer walls of the stables.

All the breath in her lungs left in a woosh as her back met with the hard surface of the stable wall, and she was offered no chance to regain it as a strong arm, liberally roped with firm muscle, reached up to violently press her slender neck into the wooden slats. Looking up into the face of her attacker, Amarah found herself battling between equal feelings of joyful success and desperate fear when a voice as rough and harsh as the burnt skin covering nearly half his head cut through the darkness with a pronounced snarl.

"It's not wise for little stags to wander off on their own."

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_What will follow next? You'll just have to stay tuned for more! Thanks so much for reading. All comments are greatly appreciated, as always:)_


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note: **_So I wouldn't be so cruel as to leave you all hanging too long after that last chapter! I have to take this moment to confess that I am in fact a SanSan fan, so a small element of that coupling will find its way into the story. If you're not a fan of them like myself, then perhaps I can convert you. Who knows? Anyway, here's the next chapter! Big leaps forward with the plot here, but it's necessary to get things really going where I want them. Enjoy!_

* * *

"I thought the brothers of this island were sworn to a vow of silence," Amarah casually returned Sandor Clegane's hostile greeting as if he _weren't_ mere inches from crushing her neck with one push of the arm that held her captive against the stable wall.

Clegane's anger dissipated only slightly at her flippant remark, but his eyes still brimmed with dangerous fury. Amarah knew Sandor Clegane was not a man to be trifled with. She had seen him kill children without batting an eye, and it wasn't a terrible stretch to the imagination to picture him disposing of her with equal nonchalance. Without Jaime or Brienne nearby to save her this time, she knew she would have to choose her words with the utmost care.

"Always the need to demonstrate your wit," Sandor returned in a low voice as he pressed in closer, digging his hard forearm further into her neck. "I've never been a very religious man, nor one to give too much thought for vows I never intended to keep."

It was becoming less easy to breathe with her windpipe trapped beneath the pressure of his weight, but Amarah somehow managed a response. "Then why come here?"

The powerful force pushing her against the stable wall lessened only a fraction at her question. "I was tired of it all," he snarled, sounding much like the moniker that had been assigned to him so long ago. "I'm no knight, just a dog that was tired of being at some little shit king's beck and call. Kingslayer might take pride in wearing that white cloak to serve a king of his own seed, but I wanted no more of it."

His impassioned speech condemning the knighthood sparked a sudden realization in her. "You're angry at me for finding you."

His nostrils flared then in the dim light and his chest expanded as he took a deep breath, almost like he was exerting an inner will not to dispose of her at that very moment. She had difficulty masking her surprise when he stepped abruptly away, releasing her from his iron grip and restoring much needed air to her rapidly depleting lungs.

"Not angry enough to kill you," he asserted in that voice so roughened by many trials of life. However, he underscored that sentiment with a menacing step forward. "But if you try to approach me again, my lady, I won't be so forgiving."

It hadn't been hard to detect the threat in his warning, but then he hadn't tried to disguise it. In the interest of her own self-preservation, Amarah should have let him leave after he turned away, but she couldn't just let him walk away after everything she had gone through to find him. "Don't you even want to know why I came?"

"No." He didn't even bother to turn back to voice the rejection.

However, Amarah would not be dissuaded so easily. "I needed to ask you about Sansa."

She had fully expected him to keep walking, stubbornly ignoring her attempts to engage him in conversation, but he surprised her by turning back to study her curiously in the dim light. When he said nothing else, she bolstered her courage enough to ask him the question that weighed heavily on her mind.

"There were tales of you traveling with a young girl throughout the Riverlands. I had hoped you could tell me something of her fate." Her voice trembled just the slightest bit, due to grief or despondency at her continued failure she didn't quite know. "I have to find her. I didn't know who else to turn to for help."

"You've somehow managed to lose her?" his voice reached her through the darkness.

Amarah's heart sank at his ignorance of Sansa's disappearance. Burying the feeling of defeat, she answered him. "Joffrey was killed on the eve of his marriage to Margaery Tyrell. Sansa was partially blamed for his death, but she disappeared from the Capital before she could be found for questioning. We've not heard word of her since. I had hoped…" but she trailed off listlessly then, too disgusted with the unfortunate turn of events to continue. It had all been for nothing then, this search for Clegane. She was as hopelessly lost as ever before.

"You've no need to worry I'll bother you again," she informed him quietly before moving away to return to the sept.

"It was Arya Stark."

Amarah pivoted back to face him with a swiftness that left her a bit dizzy. "What did you say?"

"Does that cleverness of yours not extend to your hearing?" he grumbled before repeating his words as she had asked. "The little bird's sister was my traveling companion you caught word of. I came across her after escaping the Brotherhood. I had hoped to ransom her to the wolf king, but the massacre at the Twins happened before I could collect. We traveled a bit more after that, but she eventually managed her escape when I was wounded at the Crossroads. She left me with this limp and my festering wounds where the Elder Brother found me. I know nothing of her whereabouts after we parted. When the brother found me, I wanted to die. Better to be dead than go back to what I was, a slobbering hound blindly obeying the orders of a king who didn't deserve the title."

Amarah didn't know whether to be encouraged or further disheartened by his news of Arya. Deciding instead to sort out those feelings at a later time, she turned her concentration to the ferocious creature standing before her. "That's why the Elder Brother told us the Hound died that day. He knew of your wish not to return to the knighthood."

"He was a knight himself once," Sandor replied quietly.

Amarah nodded her head in understanding. Regarding the man before her, she decided to try one last tact in garnering any information she could for this quest. Understanding this would be the only time she would have the opportunity to question him, she had to make certain to make the most of the situation. "Is there _nothing_ you can tell me of Sansa? I know you watched her most carefully at court. Were there any liaisons she formed that escaped the notice of others? Someone who could have helped orchestrate her escape?"

He was silent for so long, she almost thought he meant to ignore her questions. "There was another that watched her more carefully than I," he finally spoke. "Perhaps you would do better to address these questions to Lord Baelish."

"I can't," Amarah responded almost immediately. "He disappeared from the capital almost the same time as– "

She broke off as soon as the pieces of the puzzle she had been trying to solve for months came together to form a picture so startlingly clear, she had difficulty understanding how she could have failed to see it before.

"It would seem you have the answers you seek," Sandor's voice rumbled in the dark as he stole away quietly into the night, leaving Amarah alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

_How could I have been so blind? _she berated herself silently. Baelish had harbored an unsettling fascination for her cousin since the day she first stepped foot in the capital. She recalled him whispering secret, little words in Sansa's ear the day of the Hand's Tourney. How his speculative gleam would follow the young Stark girl as she made her way about the king's court.

Rumors had reached Amarah since her first years in the capital about Lord Baelish's association with the Tullys and how he harbored tender feelings for the young lady Catelyn Tully who had spurned his friendship and affection to become the lady of Winterfell and wife to Lord Eddard Stark. Had Amarah herself not mentioned how Sansa looked so much like the Catelyn of her youth? Surely someone as perceptive of Lord Baelish had not missed the resemblance as well.

_"You forget your little cousins, my lady. Without me to look after their interests in the capital who would they turn to?"_ She recalled Baelish's words to her in Renly's camp. It should have struck her as odd then, his interest in her cousins who should mean nothing to him, but she had been too focused on other matters.

"Amarah?" She was briefly distracted from her musings by the sound of Jaime's voice. "When you said you had needs that required attending to, I hadn't thought those needs involved tending to the horses."

She gave him a puzzled glance for a moment till she realized that she was still standing by the stables where she had encountered the Hound. "I found Clegane," she hastily explained the situation to him.

Jaime's look of amusement quickly disappeared before his hand swiftly found the hilt of his sword. "Clegane is here?"

"He's gone now, but he told me all I need to know," she assured him. "It was _Baelish_, Jaime. That fucking pimp stole my cousin."

"I don't believe it was Baelish who did the fucking," Jaime took the time to correct her. "His whores took care that."

Amarah gave him a look that indicated she was not amused. "There's no time for your little quips right now. We must figure out where he's taken her."

"What makes you think it was Baelish who took your cousin?" Jaime ignored her orders to assess the situation properly.

He grasped her arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows as he questioned her in a low voice. Amarah's mind was so busy trying to assess where Baelish could have whisked Sansa off to that she didn't realize what Jaime was about until her back was pressed against the wall of the stable once more. Only this time, the man trapping her had much more nefarious schemes in mind than Sandor Clegane.

"Jaime," she tried to chide him as he started hiking up her skirts. "Not now, I need to– "

"So do I, Princess," he softly hushed her before accomplishing his goal of lifting her skirts up around her waist as he proceeded to swiftly unlace his breeches. She dimly realized that he was getting rather adept at using the one hand, but the thought was quickly lost when she felt him slowly begin to enter her, inch by tantalizing inch.

"Jaime," she softly hummed, her lids drooping in pleasure while he slowly rocked against her.

She felt him smile against her cheek as he continued to torture her slowly. "That's more like it, Princess. Perhaps you tell me about your discovery now. What makes you think it was Baelish who took young Sansa?"

Amarah valiantly tried to concentrate on her thoughts as he moved deeper. "He– Oh gods," she moaned as he slid fully into her enveloping warmth. "How am I supposed to tell you what I discovered while you're doing _that_?"

"Try," was all he said before slowly withdrawing and sinking back in, deeper than before.

Amarah hadn't known it possible to be aroused and irritated by a man in the same instant, but she did her best to impress on him her displeasure at his underhanded tactics. However, the stern look she attempted to give was quickly displaced by a moan of pleasure he managed to wring from from her by nudging a particularly sensitive place.

Giving up any attempt to stop him, Amarah tried once again to tell him of Littlefinger's involvement in Sansa's disappearance. "Baelish disappeared from the capital the same time as Sansa," she spoke, though the words came out sounding more like a breathless pant as he continued to pleasure her relentlessly. "He was always obsessed with my aunt since they were both youths. In his own twisted way, he must see Sansa as his second chance to succeed with Catelyn. No doubt, there's more to his schemes than simply seducing my cousin, but I haven't been able to think of that yet. First we have to discover where he's taken her. Do you know of any stronghold he would have access to, where he could keep her so securely hidden from those that wish to find her?"

"Maybe," Jaime's answered in a low groan, and Amarah felt her mouth lift in a smug smile at the knowledge that she was not the only one so affected by their torrid embrace. He took the chance to reward her with another slow thrust before continuing. "My father did bestow on him Harrenhal after the battle against Stannis Baratheon. It's the only stronghold he holds that I know of."

Amarah threw her head back with a gasp borne of exquisite bliss as he withdrew and slid home once more. "No," she rejected his suggestion once she had managed to momentarily regain her thoughts. "There's not enough suitable protection for him to keep her there without fear of discovery. The place is practically a ruin."

Jaime was now working on the neckline of her bodice, sliding the rough material across her sensitive breasts as he placed wet kisses along her skin. He ceased only long enough to send her an intense look that gleamed like wildfire in the light of the faraway torches that flickered briefly across his face. "He's an intelligent man. If he did take her, no doubt it was somewhere that she could not be easily recovered."

"It could be somewhere that she knew," Amarah offered. "He would have to entice her to go with him with the promise of somewhere familiar, would he not?"

"Hmmm," Jaime agreed noncommittally. It was clear that his attention was now turned fully to the place where their bodies joined most intimately. Amarah opened her mouth to bring his mind back to the problem at hand, but she found herself releasing a near scream of delight instead as he gave a particularly well placed thrust, bringing her to complete ecstasy.

He hurriedly moved his mouth to hers to absorb the sound, keeping his body tightly joined with hers as she shuddered in release. As the fog of pleasure slowly receded, she felt him take his own fulfillment as well. Though this time, he withdrew at the last moment rather than allowing himself to spill inside her.

Once they had both managed to collect themselves, Amarah turned his gaze to hers by gently cradling his precious face that lightly glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. "Why did you do that?"

Jaime placed his golden hand over her abdomen in a tender caress. "No need to risk it further."

"A child you mean?" Amarah questioned after understanding dawned. "There's little chance of that. My moon's blood passed only a few nights ago."

Jaime looked slightly relieved at her assurance, but Amarah wasn't greatly surprised by his reluctance to spawn a child with her. He didn't seem very much the paternal sort. "I don't want any more bastards," he admitted then in a half-whispered confession. "My next son will carry my name."

He gave her an assessing look at his last statement, likely waiting to see what response she would give. "Members of the king's guard are not permitted to take wives," she quietly reminded him.

"Perhaps I shall not always wear the cloak," he murmured, but he said nothing further on the subject.

Instead, he slowly lowered her skirts before restoring them both to a semi-respectable appearance. Amarah was content to leave topic unexplored. She had no wish to force him to do anything he did not truly want. If he gave her his name, she didn't want the action to stem from some sense of duty. So she was content to simply leave things as they were. For the present.

As they walked back to the sept, she turned the conversation back to what she had originally wished to discuss before Jaime had distracted her so thoroughly. "What of Baelish? He wouldn't have acted so brazenly by stealing her away unless he was thoroughly certain he couldn't be reached."

Jaime halted his steps momentarily to ponder the question. "I recall hearing that Tyrion had sent him to Lysa Arryn under the pretense that he was to secure a marriage between her son and Myrcella. I believe he was expected to employ certain _persuasive_ tactics in order to convince her of the wisdom of the union."

"Do you think he could have _persuaded_ her so thoroughly that she would consider making him lord of the Vale?" Amarah questioned him, hardly able to keep the excitement from her voice at the significant strides they were making in solving this mystery of the lost Stark.

"He certainly knows how to manipulate others into doing his bidding," Jaime pondered, the expression on his face a clear indication that he was beginning to see things Amarah's way. It was the only possible explanation for why Sansa would have disappeared so thoroughly for so long. "It would surprise me not at all if that's where he's taken her."

"Then we can simply retrieve her," Amarah told him, tightly gripping his arm in anticipation.

Jaime gave her a serious look then that served to bring her swiftly back to reality. "There's nothing simple about it if that is where he's taken her. The Eyrie is the most impenetrable fortress in all of Westeros. For a place to keep her securely from the grasp of others, Littlefinger certainly chose well."

Amarah's bubble of happiness was quickly burst as the realization dawned on her that it would be a near impossibility to get Sansa out of such a place. She recalled the tale of Tyrion in the sky cells and gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of what awaited them there. "How are we to reach her then?" she asked Jaime in a much less hopeful tone than mere moments ago.

The answer he gave her was hardly encouraging. "I don't know, Princess."

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_I know the realizations really poured in here, but really, for a character so close to the Stark family, it wasn't too much of a leap for her to figure out that Baelish is the Sansa snatcher, and I wanted to really get things moving along here. Also, for the little sexposition scene, I always imagined that after sexing up his sister in secret for almost his whole life, Jaime would be rather good at stealing opportune moments to work in the sexytimes. Thanks so much for reading. Comments are obviously always appreciated and a great motivator to my creative flow to bring y'all more of the story:)_

**A/N Jofrench22: **_Hope this chapter helped clear up some of the questions you had. Obviously, some answers are still to come. Thanks for your interest in the story!_


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note: **_Again, I can't say enough how much the support (reviews, follows, favorites) encourages me! Thank you so very much to everyone for taking the time to read my story and responding as well. I wanted to get this chapter out much earlier, but it was proving very difficult for me, hence the long wait. My apologies for that, but I've finally managed to get it to a place I'm happy with. So here it is, and I hope you all enjoy!_

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Jaime tightened the strap holding his horse's saddle with a decisive yank. Taking a moment to soothe the creature with the natural hand decorating his left wrist, he turned his watchful gaze to the girl standing a few paces away with her ever present lady knight.

Despite the fact that they had no definite plan of how extract Sansa Stark from Baelish's fortress, if she _was_ indeed there, Amarah had decided that nothing else was to be gained by their presence in the Quiet Isle. So here they stood in the early light of dawn peeking over the grassy knoll by the sept, preparing for a journey that may very well prove to be a fruitless endeavor.

The fact that they had no proof of the young wolf's whereabouts, save Amarah's suspicions, made Jaime rather uneasy. For so much of his life he had been the Lannister who jumped headfirst into situations without thinking, simply because it had felt right in the moment to do so. He understood now that much of the misery in his life and the lives of others had been a direct result of that customary recklessness. Keeping his gaze locked on the dark haired princess before him, he hoped the rash decision to race to the aid of young Sansa would not prove a misery for her as well.

Jaime had briefly considered overruling her decision to ride directly to the keep where she suspected her cousin was being held, instead sending ahead some of his trusted riders who could confirm such suspicions before their entire party wasted valuable time by tracking down yet another hollow lead in what had seemed till now a never-ending search for the lost heir of Winterfell.

Amarah must have felt his scrutiny because she momentarily shifted her focus from the hulking woman by her side her to meet his gaze. Despite the distance between them, Jaime could detect a hint of uncertainty in her silver eyes, but it was underlain with a glint of steely determination. Jaime couldn't help the slight smile of admiration that tugged at the corners of his mouth in response to her strong willed nature. It was the reason he hadn't bothered trying to talk her into seeing things his way. Her mind was well made up and there would be no changing it. They would be on their way to the Eyrie within the hour, no matter where the journey might lead.

As if sensing his reluctant surrender, she gave Jaime an answering nod of reassurance before withdrawing her gaze. Though Amarah's attention had moved elsewhere, Jaime's remained riveted on her lovely face bathed in the early rays of golden sunlight. Her features were still pale and drawn from her recent illness, but those small defects weren't enough to detract from the beauty for which she was so famed throughout the kingdoms.

A little smirk graced Jaime's lips as he recalled the look on that face during their heated coupling by the stable, the same face that now appeared so cool and reserved in the light of day. Who would have ever thought that the cold Princess Baratheon hid such scorching heat behind those icy walls she had constructed so securely about herself to keep the rest of the world at bay? There was a time when Jaime would have never wagered she contained such a passionate nature. He had never been so damn pleased to be wrong. She had proven a complete revelation to him, both in bed and out of it.

Jaime had always enjoyed sex with his sister. He had been in love with her after all, and their rutting had always mirrored that fervent, consuming need. However, when he joined with Amarah he had felt something else in addition to those things. Fucking with her had been no less urgent than his couplings with Cersei, but there had been an unexpected feeling of peaceful contentment mixed in among those baser passions. It was an altogether different experience than fucking his sister but one Jaime suspected he would never tire of.

Even now, surrounded by his men and the pious brothers of the faith, he still longed sink inside her honey-sweet depths again and again till he slaked this overpowering need to consume her. However, it wasn't only that delectable body that kept him so intrigued. If it were, he wouldn't find himself so consumed by her in turn. It was the gentle soul that lurked beneath the exterior of haughty reserve that had somehow managed to entwine with his so thoroughly and completely, Jaime doubted he would ever escape her grasp. Not that he wished to.

He felt his pleased smile gradually slip into a frown at the lovesick notion and grudgingly pulled his gaze from the pleasing sight of Amarah Baratheon. Lusting after the princess might be an enjoyable pastime but hardly a productive one.

After exerting a valiant effort to marshal his thoughts in a less amorous direction, Jaime's horse was finally readied to make the trek through the Riverlands. He was about to inform the company that it was time to move out when a sight to the side of the sept caught his eye. The elder brother of the island, whom Amarah had finally met with that morning to explain the nature of their visit, strolled towards Jaime from across the way. Beside him trudged another man who stooped towards the ground as he shuffled along the pebbled walk. One of his legs appeared lame as it dragged slightly across the rocky surface, scattering a shallow spray of pebbles and mud in its wake.

The man's face was covered, but Jaime didn't need to see it to know his name. He was slightly bewildered how he could have failed to recognize the brute before. After so many years serving alongside Sandor Clegane in the capitol, Jaime should have recognized that massive frame anywhere, even with the additions of the religious garb and staggered limp.

Beneath the concealing cover of his cape, Jaime cautiously moved his hand to the smooth hilt of his sword as they came closer. He doubted the Hound would try anything now when there was nothing to be gained by such an attack, but he had learned to always be wary whenever a Clegane was near. They weren't a particularly trustworthy lot.

Jaime took care to conceal his wary regard beneath a smile of cocksure arrogance before addressing the approaching pair. "Did you wish to illicit a confession from me before we depart your shores, Brother?"

"Though I'm certain you've no limit of sins that could serve such a purpose, my lord, that is not my intent," the Elder Brother returned with a vaguely amused expression. "I am aware that Sandor's identity has already been discovered by the enterprising Lady Amarah, and, despite my advice to the contrary, it seems he is not content as he once was to remain here with us."

Jaime bestowed the hooded figure beside him with condescending appraisal. "Surely he doesn't wish to once again offer his services to the House Lannister which he so cowardly abandoned during the siege on the capital. Has he somehow managed to recover his manhood while digging in the dirt to make new homes for the island's corpses?"

"If you've somehow managed to regain yours, Kingslayer, there's hope for us all," Clegane returned in a voice that contained none of the vitriolic fury Jaime would have expected after such a pointed insult, displaying only thinly veiled mockery instead. As if defending himself against Jaime's barbs wasn't an action worth his time or effort.

After Clegane's stinging reply, Jaime was further disinclined than before to allow him to join their party. "While your offer to help is greatly appreciated, I think it would be best if you continued to serve your corpses rather than attempt to protect the living. At least if you fail the deceased, they'll be too dead to notice."

Jaime had meant to say more but he was cut off by the feel of a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to look in order to know who had stemmed the flow his harsh words.

"Why do you wish to go with us?" Amarah addressed the dog in a gentle whisper, as if she were trying to coax a frightened animal into the open.

Instead of answering right away, Clegane reached up to hook the tips of his fingers along the edge of his grey cowl before pulling it away to reveal his half-burned head. He looked much the same as Jaime remembered. Though, he noticed a few pronounced lines around Clegane's steely eyes, signaling a feeling of world-weariness in his expression. As if he had seen far too many of life's injustices. Jaime had never remembered the Hound looking weary before, only angry.

"I couldn't help from trying to save the Little Bird when in the king's service," Clegane finally answered Amarah's question with a queer expression in those stony eyes that looked at odds with his menacing face. "Old habits are difficult to break."

Jaime could only assume the name he had used was a reference to the little Stark, though he failed to see the significance of it. Clegane's reasoning sounded sincere enough, but Jaime was left unmoved. Just before he could open his mouth to refuse him, Amarah pressed her hand into his shoulder once more to silence him. He shot her an exasperated look at her continued interference, and their stubborn gazes clashed together in a silent battle of wills. When he saw she had no intention of seeing reason, Jaime ceded control of the conversation to her with a frustrated roll of his eyes. The sound of an impatient snort was her only response to his annoyance.

"It appears Ser Jaime has no wish for you to join our company," she finally addressed the man who had been standing in silence as the two of them had wordlessly debated his usefulness. "But perhaps you can change his mind by proving your worth?"

Both men regarded her with matching expressions of curious skepticism at her unexpected suggestion, but Sandor was the one who spoke. "If you wish me to kill someone as a demonstration of my worth, we'll have to travel back across the mudflats to the mainland in order to find anyone suitable enough for that purpose."

"No, no," Amarah quickly waved off his cold blooded suggestion. "I had more in mind a demonstration of your skill as a knight, not precisely your ability to slaughter others. A show of restraint would be more convincing to your cause than yet another mindless killing."

Sandor's one brow drew downward towards the center of his forehead as he pondered her words. "Who should I demonstrate this ability against?" he questioned in a deep throated rasp. "Kingslayer here? Much good that would do. Two cripples fighting one another."

"_Jaime Lannister_ is one of the finest warriors in the seven kingdoms, one-handed or otherwise," Amarah quickly spoke up in his defense.

Though Jaime made certain to keep his expression of careless boredom firmly in place, he felt a pleasant sensation of warmth begin to bloom in the center of his chest at Amarah's emphasis of his true name, a welcome contrast to the mocking title which had followed him so relentlessly over the last eighteen years. He also appreciated her defense of his skills in battle, even if it wasn't so well deserved as she thought. His sparring with Ilyn Payne had helped to improve his lost skill to some extent, but he was still farther than he would have liked from being the warrior he once was.

Heedless of the affect her words had on the lover by her side, Amarah carried on speaking. "You would do well not to underestimate him. As, I also suspect, _we_ would do well not to underestimate the disgraced knight with a lame leg. A bit of sparring would be good for the both of you, I think. Of course, if the Brother would permit it that is."

If she had bothered to glance in Jaime's direction after that suggestion, she would have understood with perfect clarity his immense dislike of that plan. Jaime didn't particularly fancy the notion of being struck down by a dog, but it appeared he wouldn't even have the chance to reject her plan. She obviously assumed he would fall right in step with her decision for the Hound and the Kinglsayer to pummel each other in a bout of swordplay in order to prove the worth of the other.

Instead of asking permission of the man she had offered up as a sacrifice by combat, Amarah looked towards the Elder Brother with a deceptively innocent smile that didn't have Jaime fooled in the slightest. She knew exactly what she was about, and it seemed the Brother was not averse to being manipulated into agreeing with her ludicrous proposition.

"I've no objection, Lady Amarah, as long as both knights agree to stop short of spilling the other's blood. We'd prefer the death on this island to only come about by natural means, not brought on the end of a bloodied sword."

Amarah gave him a generous smile of appreciation at the readily voiced agreement. "That's settled then," she pronounced with a satisfied expression, as if she had suddenly discovered the secret to bringing about peace to the warring kingdoms.

"I'll need a sword," the Hound reminded her with a hint of impatience coloring his tone. He didn't sound any more pleased than Jaime at this proposed duel, but neither did he sound uncertain, simply resigned. Much as Jaime himself was.

Amarah motioned Jaime's squire Peck towards her, and the skinny lad wasted no time in complying with the silent order. "Peck, attend to your master and have someone see to locating a sword for his opponent."

Peck gave a jerky nod before trotting off again to locate Jaime's shield. It was a cumbersome, awkward thing to strap onto his golden hand, but Jaime preferred the protection over the discomfort. Watching his eager, young squire run about to do Amarah's bidding, Jaime grasped her elbow and forced her closer so he could bend his head to her ear before speaking in the lowest of tones.

"Is this your way of punishing me for my refusal to dismiss Payne from the company?" he hissed in an accusing whisper.

During their journey to the isle, when Amarah had first discovered Ilyn Payne among the men, she had furiously demanded he be sent away for the part he played in her uncle's death, but Jaime had refused to bow to her wishes. Payne was both brutal and unrelenting, two traits necessary in an instructor who could assist Jaime in rebuilding his skills as a knight. The fact that Payne was also mute meant Jaime needed have no fear that the executioner would discuss him or his secrets with others. He simply couldn't afford to send the man away, and he told Amarah as much. Though she stubbornly refused to see his reasoning on the subject at first, her anger had gradually faded, but Jaime knew she still resented the man's presence. Now he wondered if subjecting him to possible humiliation at the hands of Sandor Clegane might be her way of evening the score between them.

However, from the hurt look in her eyes the moment he voiced the thought, Jaime knew he had been mistaken in that respect. "Of course not!" she responded instantly. "I simply think you are far more capable than you have allowed yourself to believe. Fighting Clegane will prove two things. First, it will show if Sandor Clegane is still the murdering, ruthless brute he once was. If so, we will certainly not allow him to join us as I don't greatly anticipate the thought of being murdered in cold blood at the whim of a mad dog. But more importantly, it will also help prove the fact that you are the same knight you always were. You're not a cripple, Jaime Lannister. You are a knight of the kingsguard, and you should regard yourself as such."

Once his mind had finally absorbed the meaning behind her words, Jaime questioned her in a voice that reflected his amazement at her unwavering belief in his abilities that she had yet to witness first-hand. "Why do you have such confidence in me?"

"Because you deserve it," she answered in a clear, steady voice that testified to her absolute faith.

Jaime knew in that instant he couldn't fail such steadfast loyalty. He would prove to her and to himself that he was worthy of the trust she chose to bestow on him. "Let us hope you are right then, Princess," he replied in a gentle whisper before dropping a brief kiss on the tip of her nose.

Amarah rewarded his gesture with an equally tender kiss to his cheek before she withdrew to whisper something to Sandor Clegane as he was testing the weight of the sword one of the men had placed in his hand. Jaime couldn't make out what she had said but whatever it was proved amusing enough to garner even the smallest smile from the normally serious Hound. Amarah quickly moved to the side then with Brienne and the bastard Gendry who both watched the proceedings with profound interest.

After Peck had fitted him with the golden shield, Jaime drew the sword from his scabbard before planting both feet firmly in the grass and eyeing Clegane with a measuring glance. Doubtlessly the other knight would exploit his weakness, so Jaime would have to take advantage of his as well, and he knew exactly where to start.

"Shall we?" Jaime asked in a voice tinged with the slightest hint of amusement to hide the uncertainty he battled within.

As his reply, Clegane started towards him without warning and Jaime barely had time enough to lift his shield to ward off the powerful blow. As Clegane's sword made contact with the shield supported by his golden hand, Jaime felt the effects of it reverberate through his whole frame, though it wasn't enough to knock him to the ground. Jaime recalled then that Clegane had always preferred more brute force over style.

Shoving the sword away with a powerful thrust of his shield, Jaime began circling as his gaze quickly darted to various places he might attack first. Clegane swung at Jaime again, but Jaime was fast enough to dart out of the way this time before rounding and sending his sword bearing down on Clegane's as the two met in a clash of steel. Clegane pulled back once more, and the swords sang as the steel blades retreated then met once more in a harsh clang.

With the sound of the swords meeting each other in a familiar cadence that he had missed for far too long, Jaime's blood began to run high. The lost hand was forgotten now. There was only this, the clash of swords upon one another and the need to taste victory once more.

Clegane's blows were powerful, but he was slow on his feet, a condition due to the lameness in his leg. Jaime had to find a way to get close enough to capitalize on that weakness. Dodging another blow, Jaime heard the whiz of a sword passing within a hair's breath of his ear. As Clegane prepared to draw back and attack once more Jaime jerked his sword upwards, knocking against Clegane's in mid air and dislodging it the slightest bit from the larger man's grasp.

As Clegane fought to regain his grip on the sword, Jaime took advantage of the momentary distraction to step close enough to slap the flat of his sword against the back of Clegane's injured thigh. A howl of pain met the unforgiving blow, and Clegane dropped to his knees while still managing to maintain a tight grip on his sword. Jaime raised his weapon to sweep Clegane's from his grasp, but the other man surprised him by rolling aside just as the sword came down, connecting with soft earth instead of forged steel.

As Jaime quickly tried to dislodge the point of his sword from the ground at his feet, he clenched his jaw in anticipation of the thrust of Clegane's sword against his exposed left side, but was surprised once more when it didn't come. After he had finally managed to return his sword to a position of attack, Jaime sent Clegane a curious glance at his failure to take advantage of his momentary weakness.

The Hound merely shook his head in response to Jaime's wordless question before charging at him again with unexpected speed in one who was partially lame. Jaime raised his sword to meet the other, and once again they engaged in a series of parries and thrusts as they danced around one another, looking for the first opportunity to strike out at a vulnerable point. Jaime found his first.

Clegane had just landed another staggering blow to his shield when Jaime's sharp gaze caught sight of the smallest tremble in the large man's leg. It wobbled only the slightest bit in the soft grass, but it was enough. Knocking the blade away from him once again, Jaime advanced with his sword swinging, meeting a point on the outside edge of Clegane's shield that would unbalance him enough for Jaime to land another blow on his weak side.

As he had predicted, Clegane stumbled just enough for Jaime to strike. However, this time, instead of attacking him directly in his most vulnerable point, Jaime struck Clegane's hip, sending him tipping sideways towards the earth. Clegane waved his sword hand in an attempt to regain his balance, but Jaime answered his efforts to stay upright by striking out at the flailing sword in the Hound's slackened grasp. His ears were met by the welcome sound of the steel weapon flying from Clegane's grip and onto the ground a few paces away.

Left standing there with only his borrowed shield and no sword, Clegane gave Jaime a look that was equal parts resigned and bitter. "It seems I'm sorely out of practice. Congratulations on your victory, Kingslayer," he mumbled before dropping the shield in disgust and pivoting on his heel to walk away.

Jaime was tempted to let him retreat but couldn't allow him to walk away without knowing why he hadn't finished him off when given the chance. "You could have struck me down," he called out, stopping Clegane in his tracks. "Why didn't you?"

Clegane rounded back, but, instead of Jaime, his gaze fell on Amarah who had come to stand by Jaime's side as Peck was removing the wooden shield from his wrist. "Because your lady told me if I harmed you she would do more damage to my face than my brother ever could." Jaime thought he could detect the very slightest hint of amusement in the disgraced knight's voice, but he couldn't be sure. "I believed her," Clegane finally finished.

Jaime turned from the Hound to assess the silent figure by his side. From the faintly guilty look in her eyes, Jaime suspected she hadn't meant him to discover her threat to Clegane. "I thought you trusted me to beat him?" he questioned her.

"Of course I trusted you. It was him I didn't trust," she defended herself before shooing his squire away. Once Peck was gone, Amarah looked back at Jaime with a defiant look that he was secretly becoming rather fond of. Not that he would admit as much to her.

Jaime opened his mouth to respond but was distracted by the sight of Clegane limping away. "If you want to join us, Clegane, you'll have to saddle a horse for yourself. Don't expect one of my men to be doing it for you."

Sandor looked back at Jaime with an inscrutable expression, but nodded his head in agreement. "My horse is in the stable," he informed them before heading off again in the direction he had been walking before Jaime stopped him.

"What are the chances he murders us in our beds?" This question came from Brienne who had joined Amarah by Jaime's side.

Jaime sent the lady knight a commiserating look at her prudent question. "Enough for you to keep as close a guard as possible on your lady at all times," he answered her with a meaningful look.

"Even when I'm in my bed?" Amarah asked him with a mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes. She seemed significantly less concerned by the presence of Sandor Clegane than Jaime and Brienne

Jaime opened his mouth to reply but was taken aback by the amused smile that turned up the ends of Brienne's mouth in response to Amarah's question. He tried to recall if he had ever seen the woman smile but couldn't recall any such occasion. His surprise was enough to render him speechless, and Brienne took advantage of his state to answer the question in his stead.

"I suppose Lannister can be the one guarding you as closely as possible then, my lady," Brienne answered with that baffling amusement still present in those eyes as blue as the sapphire waters of her home.

With those words, the maid of Tarth bowed quickly to excuse herself before Jaime turned to Amarah with a baffled expression. "Since when did that wench learn to smile?"

Amarah let out a burst of unladylike laughter at his confused expression. "She's not as disagreeable and dull as you make her out to be, Jaime," she managed to defend her knight between amused giggles.

"If you insist," Jaime replied, though he was far from convinced. "She's brave though, and loyal. Two traits we'll need more than ever in the coming days. Perchance, have you managed to think of a plan that would allow us to even get a look inside the Eyrie to discover if your cousin is there as you suspect?"

Amarah's mirth was quickly erased by Jaime's reminder of her cousin's plight. "I've thought of a plan that might work," she answered, but her brow was creased by worried little lines that didn't do much to erase Jaime's doubt as to the wisdom of this plan to somehow infiltrate the impenetrable fortress.

"Let us hope, Princess, for all of our sakes, that the gods are feeling more generous towards you at present."

Amarah gave him a humorless smile in return. "If this is your idea of being an encouragement, you're dreadful at it."

"I'm just trying to prepare you for the worst, Princess," Jaime answered in a more sympathetic voice.

Amarah looked at the ground with a defeated look that made Jaime regret his disheartening words. "It's something I should be used to by now, I suppose."

"No need to despair so soon," Jaime drew her gaze to his once more by tilting her chin upwards with his golden hand. "We might even succeed."

Amarah returned his encouraging smile with a sad one of her own. "We have to succeed, Jaime. We _must_."

_We must._ Her haunted words echoed in Jaime's mind some time later, even after they had left the isle and began their way towards the Mountains of the Moon where the Eyrie lay in protected seclusion. _We will succeed, Princess,_ Jaime silently vowed as he rode along with the company. He had to fulfill that promise, for the princess and himself. He did not even wish to imagine what dire fate might befall them if they failed.

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading! I had originally planned on something entirely different for this chapter, but then I had the idea of a swordfight between Jaime and Sandor and thought his joining the company would be a great reason to bring that scene about. Well, now that things are all laid in place for them to rescue Sansa, I'm off to do a ton of research about the Eyrie in order to write the next few chapters! Again, thank you for reading, and if you want to leave any comments or thoughts I would appreciate them more than words can say!_

**A/N purple sky always: **_I actually had considered including the other Baratheon bastard when they arrive at the Eyrie, but eventually decided against it because I have a lot of characters running around already and want to keep the story as streamlined as I possibly can in a universe populated with so many people. I appreciate your interest in the story though, and hope you enjoy all that is to come!_


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Note: **_Thank you again for the reviews and support! With the introduction of Sansa, I will be doing some snippets of a few chapters from her point of view. So the beginnings of that will be introduced in this chapter. Her perspective will give us a glimpse into events that Jaime and Amarah don't have a perspective on but that are still essential to my story. Those who have read the books will understand more quickly what's going on, but if you haven't read them, don't worry. All will be explained eventually:) Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_The Eyrie: Seat of House Arryn_

Sweetrobin was dead. Sansa sat by the little corpse and stroked his hair as she had so many times before, singing soft songs to soothe his troubles. Although, he had no troubles to soothe now. They were vanished along with his soul. As a stray tear tricked down her face and splashed onto the stone slab, Sansa pressed one last kiss to the deceased boy's pale, cold cheek before rising with a heavy heart.

She proceeded to the gardens where she had spent a great deal of her time while residing in the Vale. When Petyr had first brought her here, she had quickly discovered the desolate little space in the courtyard of the keep. No plants grew there; no life was able to flourish in the stony earth, but Sansa cared little about that. It was the only place here that truly reminded her of home.

_Home,_ she thought with a wistful smile. For so long Petyr had been promising to take her home. _Once all our plans have fallen into place, we'll go home together, Alayne,_ he had assured her, calling her by the false name that had taken the place of her own. Alayne Stone, the bastard daughter of Lord Baelish. It was the only name she ever heard now. Even Petyr who knew her true name would call her nothing else. _In order to make the deception believable, my dear, we must create our own truth._

_Our truth._ Sansa considered those words with the slightest of sneers. Petyr sought to disguise his plans and scheming as something designed with her in mind, but she was beginning to uncover truth of the matter. She was simply a means to an end for Lord Baelish. She had tried to accept his words of kindness and reassurance. Perhaps his stolen kisses had meant that he sought to regain her lost home simply as a means of showing his odd affection for her. However, the death of her little cousin had caused a wave doubt to drown out those hopes and desires.

Now the man Petyr wished to marry her off to, the only surviving member or the Arryn family, would inherit this fortress, thereby gaining Petyr two of the most powerful strongholds in the seven kingdoms in one fell swoop. All he had needed to accomplish it was a dash of poison in a young boy's nightly drought. He would never confess such a misdeed, of course, but deep down Sansa knew the truth. The mysterious manner of her aunt's tragic death had sparked the first flicker of doubt, but Sweetrobin's death had confirmed them. If she agreed to his wishes and married Harry as he urged her to do, would she not be as guilty as he in the death of her young cousin? Could she willingly play a part in such a cold-blooded charade with a clear conscience? Did she even wish to aid the man who had deceived her, perhaps led her astray even more than the rest?

When he had first whisked her away from the capital to her aunt's fortress, Sansa had truly believed he did it all with her best interests at heart, but it seemed now that Petyr was just like everyone else. Simply using her as a means to their own ends.

As soon as the thought formed in her mind, it was immediately overshadowed by an oft recalled memory that had gradually transformed from terrifying to strangely comforting the longer she was given to ruminate on it. In her mind's eye she could still see that half burned head lit by the eerie green glow of the wildfire surrounding the city. _I can take you with me. Take you to Winterfell._ It had been the most selfless offer she had ever heard, given by the most terrifying yet fascinating man she had ever met.

She sat soundlessly on the snow covered earth before closing her eyes and losing herself in the memory of his rough, brutal voice. _I'll keep you safe._ How odd it was that such comforting words could have been spoken by such a terrifying creature, though she didn't find him quite as frightening now. Sometimes, she even allowed herself to imagine what might have happened had she been brave enough to accept his offer. _I'll keep you safe¸ _he had said. Thinking back on his words now, as she so often did, Sansa found herself believing it more and more.

"Ah, here you are, my dear," Petyr's voice abruptly swept away Sansa's brooding thoughts of Sandor Clegane. "I know this must be dreadful for you, losing him so suddenly, but it was the nature of his illness I'm afraid. Though, it might comfort you to know he no longer suffers from his afflictions."

"You are right, of course, my lord," Sansa automatically responded, though she made certain to inject a hint of sincerity in her voice in order to keep from alerting him of her suspicions in the role he had played in her little cousin's passing. "He's free from the suffering now."

Petyr stepped closer and offered his hand to help her rise. Sansa grasped the offered limb before she found herself being pulled to her feet in a closer proximity to him than she would have preferred. "It's best to think of it that way, my dear," he murmured gently before moving his hand to lightly trace the porcelain skin of her cheek. He had moved close enough now for his breath to brush across her mouth which he eyed with a heavy lidded gaze, as if he intended to kiss her again.

She had always accepted those kisses with passive acceptance, never viewing them with either pleasure or aversion, but as she saw his tongue flick out to wet his lips in anticipation of another mating of their lips, she felt an unexpected knot of revulsion well inside her breast, forcing her to take a hasty step out of his embrace. When he realized that she would not permit his familiar touch, Petyr's eyes darkened the slightest bit in displeasure.

"Forgive me, my lord," Sansa hastened to apologize in order to distinguish that glimmer of disapproval. "I'm feeling rather fatigued. I beg you would excuse me."

That answer seemed to pacify his prickled pride for the look in his eyes slowly slipped into a more patronizing expression. "Of course, but I would ask you to ready yourself for evening meal in the High Hall. Harry will be joining us tonight for we have much to discuss."

Sansa disciplined herself not to react to the news of the new heir, and her assumed betrothed, joining them so soon after Sweetrobin's death. Nodding her head like the obedient little bird she had once been accused of resembling, she ceded to his wishes. "Certainly, I will meet with you again this eve."

"When you return to your rooms, you'll find a new handmaid there," Petyr informed her just as she prepared to walk away. "A young peasant they found wandering the Vale with her brother. Normally we wouldn't take on such refuse, but she expressed a keen desire to serve us here and I didn't see the harm in granting her request. If she displeases you, be certain to let me know and we shall dispose of her."

Sansa nodded her head in agreement, though she had only partially heard all that he told her. Her mind was currently occupied with matters slightly more significant than new handmaids. Taking her leave of Petyr, she reentered the faintly warmer atmosphere of the keep to return to her rooms. As she reentered the familiar space, Sansa saw the maid Petyr had mentioned, stoking a fire in the large hearth at one end of the room.

Seeing she was no longer alone, the little maid quickly jumped from her crouched position by the rough-hewn, wood logs to greet her lady. "Forgive me, m- m'lady, I d- didn't mean to disturb you," she stumbled slightly over her words in a nervous manner. "They said you would be out in the garden for much longer than this."

As the girl talked, Sansa took the opportunity to examine her face. She did have the look of a lowborn female just as Petyr had said, though her face was prettier than most servant girls. Despite her comeliness, Sansa's gaze was drawn to the crooked nose in the middle of her face that looked as if it had been smashed in with a hammer. Sansa hated to imagine what nasty incident could have caused such an ugly looking injury.

Another feature that undermined her pretty looks was the mouth full of gaping holes where several of her teeth should have resided. Sansa felt a tug of sympathy for the young girl who had been robbed of her full loveliness by some mysterious tragedy. Attempting to ignore the sight of her crooked nose and missing teeth, Sansa gave the girl the kindest of smiles she could muster in order to set her nerves at ease.

"Please don't trouble yourself," she assured her. "I usually am in the gardens this time of day, but I found myself in need some rest."

Sensing Sansa's reason for her appearance as a dismissal, the maiden bobbed an awkward curtsey before shuffling towards the door in retreat. "Good day, m'lady."

"Wait!" Sansa managed to just stop her before she disappeared behind the door. "You'll be required to attend me before the evening meal."

Her crooked nose scrunched up in thought at Sansa's reminder. "When should you like me to return, m'lady?"

"Within the hour, I suppose," Sansa returned with a weary sigh. "It won't be long before Harry arrives."

A spark of curious interest lit the girl's eyes at that name. "Is he meant to be your husband?

"Petyr wishes it," Sansa replied before realizing she had called Lord Baelish by his given name, and she quickly moved to correct the mistake. "My _father_ wishes it."

An unexpected spark of recognition flickered in the girl's eyes at Sansa's minor error, but it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "I see," she murmured, though her words seemed to be more for her own benefit than Sansa's. "I will return shortly, m'lady."

"What is your name?" Sansa's halted her exit for a second time.

The girl opened her mouth, revealing its toothless contents, before it snapped abruptly shut. Sansa thought then that the girl might ignore her request, when she seemingly reconsidered her decision to remain silent. "Pia, m'lady. My name is Pia."

"I'll expect to see you again within the hour, Pia." Sansa finally consented to dismiss her.

Pia dropped another of her awkwardly balanced curtseys and promptly disappeared into the hall. Sansa considered calling her back to ensure she knew her way around the keep but decided against it. The girl would have to learn to fend for herself here. Instead, Sansa watched the door latch click in place before wandering to her fur covered bed and flopping down on the warm coverings for a short bit of restless sleep.

If Sansa had bothered to watch her handmaid's progress as she had originally thought to do, she would have likely been perplexed by the maid's path towards the upper towers rather than the kitchens where she belonged. She might also have noticed the slip of parchment hidden between the folds of the girl's grimy dress. Sansa might have realized that there was much more to this shy, stuttering maid than first met the eye.

* * *

_The Lannister Camp: one day's ride from The Vale_

"It's here."

At Jaime's announcement, Amarah looked up from another of her pathetic attempts to mend one of her stockings. "She sent the raven?"

He nodded his head in affirmation before extending the message that Pia had managed to send them from the keep. Amarah reached out to accept the missive, but her fingers drew back at the last moment just before grasping the yellowed parchment. Jaime regarded her with a perplexed look at her reluctance to accept the message.

"What if she isn't there, Jaime?" Amarah gave voice to the fear that prevented her from reading Pia's news from the Vale. "What if– "

"I would suggest you read it before contemplating the worst, Princess," Jaime interrupted her before reaching out to gently press the note into her outstretched fingers.

Amarah steeled herself not to react too strongly to whatever message Pia had managed to send them and carefully unrolled the note before lifting it closer to her eyes to better read it in the dim candlelight. She reread the brief message twice before finally lowering it again and moving her focus to the man who stood just beside her.

"Well?" he prompted her to reveal the contents of the note.

Amarah laid the missive aside before rising from her stool and striding to the opposite side of the tent to peer out the open tent flap at the mountains just beyond. "She says that Lord Baelish gave them refuge as we had hoped. Peck's been sent to work in the stables, but Pia has been designated as the handmaid to Baelish's bastard daughter, Alayne Stone as she is called."

Her back was turned away from him, but she could imagine the look of revelation that would gradually dawn in those jade colored eyes. "Petyr Baelish has no bastard daughter."

"No, he has not." Amarah turned away from the sight of the snow-covered peaks jutting up into the starry sky to face her golden lion. "The girl is the right age, but Pia cannot be certain if it is her as she's never seen my cousin before, being tucked away in Harrenhal for most of her life as she has been."

Jaime pondered her words for a moment before venturing his opinion. "The chances of Baelish having a fabricated bastard the same age as your cousin are slim indeed. I've never been the wagering type, Princess, but if I had to venture a guess, I would say you've finally managed to find the lost wolf. Not a moment too soon, I might add. At my count, we have only thirteen days left to fulfill the bargain with Stoneheart."

Amarah's relieved smile suddenly withered at his reminder of their bargain. Thirteen days to find a way to retake the Eyrie from Littlefinger and rescue her captive cousin. Despite the strength of Jaime's forces, it would take nothing short of a miracle for them to successfully stage an invasion of the fortress of the Vale. Not only was the structure itself impenetrable, but the narrow meandering path that led to it through the mountains left any army of meager or great size open to attack from the archers in the towers. It seemed a virtually impossible task.

They had decided to camp along the way and send ahead two well-placed but inconspicuous spies who were capable of discovering the information necessary to spur their attack. Pia had been the perfect choice. She was a serving girl from the fortress of Harrenhal, and Jaime had managed to rescue her when his forces had passed through the keep at the start of his campaign through the Riverlands. Jaime had secretly confessed to Amarah that he pitied the girl after seeing the damage Gregor Clegane's hammering fist had inflicted on her once pretty face. A short time after joining the company, she had taken Jaime's squire Peck as her lover, though not before Jaime had cautioned the boy to treat her with respect.

From what Amarah had observed, she was a fairly intelligent girl, and the person assigned to infiltrate the fortress would need to be unknown to Petyr Baelish in order for the deception to be carried out successfully. As he was already aware of most those in their company, Amarah had been left with precious few options at her disposal. It had taken little convincing on her part to talk Pia into volunteering for the task. She had felt vaguely guilty at first, asking such a great risk from a girl who had already suffered much, but Pia had been most eager to repay Jaime's kindness to her.

Peck had been unwilling to allow the girl to take on the risk alone, so both had traveled along the mountain path two days past, posing as peasants who had lost their way and in dire need of shelter. The fact that the two had been granted places of service in the keep had been fortunate indeed. Now with Pia's news of Alayne Stone, the flame of hope that had simmered just below the surface of Amarah's consciousness had begun to burn a bit brighter. Only the knowledge of how difficult a siege would prove kept the flame from growing to a full, roaring blaze.

"Why do you suppose he's keeping her there?" Amarah wondered aloud after her mind had finally managed to grasp the fact that her search had finally come to an end.

"You can ask Baelish that yourself when we take the keep," Jaime answered her as he moved to exit through the opening of the tent.

Amarah followed his progress with an inquisitive look. "What do you plan to do?"

Jaime quickly retraced his steps to press a reassuring kiss to the little lines of worry marring her brow. "Don't fret about that. You've done enough worrying for the both of us, Princess. Remember that faith you have in me? Rely on that faith and trust me to successfully retrieve this elusive cousin of yours."

It had never been easy for Amarah to place her fate in the hands of others, but looking at Jaime's earnest expression now, she understood that she could entrust him with these tiring burdens. He wouldn't fail her as so many had before. Amarah knew she would never easily lean on another for the strength she needed, but for Jaime, she was willing to try.

"Very well," she finally agreed in a tight voice.

Jaime rewarded her agreement with another kiss, but this one was placed on her mouth instead and lingered much longer than the one before. Once he lifted his head, Jaime resumed his path in the direction of the dark night beyond the torches of Amarah's tent. Just before he was gone from sight, he looked back to send some parting words over his retreating shoulder.

"Get some rest, Princess. I have a raven to send."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I had fun writing some of this chapter from Sansa's POV. The San/San fan in me is just chomping at the bit to get to some scenes between her and Sandor:) Obviously, this is Amarah's story and will be mainly about her and Jaime, but I can't help but work in a few scenes to satisfy my craving to see more of Sansa's strange but beautiful connection with Sandor Clegane. Also, I hope to have the next chapter out soon so we can all be let in on Jaime's plan. Any comments will be much appreciated like always! Those definitely help inspire my creativity:)_

**A/N purple sky always: **_Actually, most of the tension will be between Amarah and Sansa. That's not a relationship I've taken the opportunity to expand on yet in this story, so a reunion between them will offer up some nice possibilities with reconnecting the two and possibly dealing with some abandonment issues on Sansa's end. Thanks for your comments!_

**A/N ****klandgraf2007****: **_That's absolutely my favorite aspect of their relationship to write about, so I'm happy you're enjoying it. Thank you so very much for your continued and faithful support of this story!_


	49. Chapter 49

**Author's Note: **_Thanks so much to all the readers for your support! I can't believe the story's at 400 reviews with lots of people following and enjoying it:) Fingers crossed this will be the first of several updates this week. Now that I'm back with access to the internet, I'm hoping to make some good progress with this story in the next several days._

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_The Lannister Camp_

"What did you say?!" Amarah roared at the stoic figure in front of her.

Brienne's mask of passive obedience of faltered not the slightest in the face of her mistress's wrath. "He's gone with his men to the Eyrie, my lady," Brienne repeated the sentence that had managed to incite Amarah's vitriolic fury. "He requested that you remain here while he retrieves the Stark girl."

"And did he happen to explain why he chose to make this request through you and sneak out like a thief in the night rather than request it of me himself?" Amarah could hear her already thundering voice rise with each word, but she didn't care. As her anger could not be directed at Jaime himself, she was perfectly content to instead unleash it on her own knight who had willingly gone along with his deception.

Brienne's left brow quirked slightly upwards then, gracing her face with a faintly patronizing look that did nothing to help temper Amarah's rage. "He seemed to think you would not react well to hearing his wishes, my lady."

"How perceptive of him," Amarah shot back.

When Jaime had pleaded with her to trust him two days before, she had foolishly believed that the trust he spoke of would go both ways. Instead he had chosen to keep his plans from her while apparently scheming to leave her behind as he went to rescue Sansa from the Eyrie by himself.

Earlier that eve he had assured her that he would join her shortly after the evening meal, per his usual ritual, and retire with her for the night. After Amarah had sat up waiting for the space of almost three hours for him to make an appearance, Brienne had come to inform her that Jaime had left the camp almost as soon as they had parted after the evening meal. Amarah wasn't certain which had injured her more, Jaime's wish to leave her behind or his dishonesty in accomplishing that goal. Either way, she didn't intend to acquiesce with his orders like a docile, obedient little creature.

With a determined glint lighting her eyes, she hastily retrieved her fur trimmed cloak and stepped past Brienne to walk outside, but her escape was hastily cut short by the solid mass of Sandor Clegane who had quickly moved to block exit of the tent in order to intercept her hasty retreat.

Amarah flashed him a disapproving frown before attempting to sidestep the bothersome man, but he mirrored the action, effectively barring any further progress. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" she shouted at him over the howling wind outside.

"Keeping you here," he answered in an uninterested tone that indicated he was not in the least affected by her angry temper. Amarah looked back at Brienne for help but was only destined to be disappointed by her knight's failure to provide any assistance.

Amarah wanted to scream at them both in frustration but forced herself to take a deep, calming death before replying. "I thought you were tired of being told what to do," she questioned Clegane, assuming that he, like Brienne, was simply following Jaime's orders to keep her from helping in the mission to recover Sansa from Littlefinger's fortress.

Her hopes to illicit an angry response were quickly squelched by the smug look in his slate-colored eyes. "I volunteered."

Amarah blinked back the unexpected burn of angry tears that blurred her vision before shooting an accusing glance at her lady knight. "Why are you doing this to me? You are meant to serve me, not keep me a captive at Jaime Lannister's command."

Brienne's hard expression slipped then to reveal the concern in her blue eyes. "I am trying to protect you, my lady. Lannister only wishes to do the same."

"By keeping me here against my will?" Amarah questioned her, abandoning her attempts to get past Clegane and approaching her knight with a pleading look. "With all Jaime's attempts to protect me, he has forgotten that by leaving me behind there is no one in his party who Sansa can trust. What possible reason could she have to believe Jaime Lannister means her no harm? The same man whose son ended, most brutally, the life of her beloved father. Without me there, who can she trust to leave Littlefinger and the Eyrie of her own accord?"

Amarah could tell that her reasoning to be included in the rescue party had dented Brienne's confidence that she should be kept away at all costs. As Brienne contemplated her words, Clegane spoke from behind them. "Did you never consider the fact that Kingslayer could simply take the Little Bird with him, whether she likes it or not?"

"And did you ever stop to consider what Sansa might do if forced on a day long journey down a treacherous mountain path with a man she considers her enemy?" she sent back with a desperate look that begged him to understand her logic. "What's to keep her from harming herself in an attempt to escape? The only way to ensure she returns safely is if I am there as someone she can trust. You said you wanted to help her. The only way to do that is by allowing me to follow Jaime."

The boredom in Clegane's expression had been steadily replaced by doubt as Amarah spoke. "She makes sense," he sent the words over her head to Brienne who had still not spoken in response to Amarah's pleas.

"Lannister will have our heads if we do this," the tall woman finally responded with a dubious look.

"I'll deal with Jaime," Amarah assured Brienne. "What I need from both of you now is to help me go after him. As every minute is precious to our cause, we must leave without further delay."

Brienne still looked reluctant but eventually ceded to her lady's wishes with a sigh of resignation. "Very well."

"And you?" Amarah asked, turning her gaze to the hulking brute still blocking her way.

Clegane answered with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. "Any way I can be of service." His words might have painted a picture of disinterest, but Amarah suspected the only reason he agreed to help her was out of concern for Sansa. Though whatever reason he could have for helping her cousin was swiftly brushed from Amarah's mind as she waved them both to follow her lead out of the tent.

When she stepped outside she found Gendry lingering by the entrance, clearly in the same place where he had been for the duration of her argument with the two knights. "You too?" she asked with a disappointed frown.

"Ser Jaime threatened to cut off my head if I tried to warn you," the boy defended himself with his hands thrown up in surrender. "But I'll gladly help you follow him, m'lady."

"For the love of the seven, Gendry, stop calling me that!" Amarah ordered him in an irritated huff before taking off in the direction of the Bloody Gate, a mountain pass they would have to make their way through in order to start their trek up the mountain.

Gendry followed her with his gaze before giving a confused shake of his head. "Why is she still angry at me when I agreed to help her? I don't understand females." He had muttered the words to himself, though Clegane, who was passing by, happened to catch the words.

"You never will, boy," he informed him before continuing on in the princess's wake.

* * *

_The Eyrie: The Following Eve_

_Swords. Struggle. Death._ Those were the jarring thoughts that served to rouse Sansa from her deep slumber. Sitting up quickly with the fur coverings pooling at her waist, she looked out the small window of her room to see the half moon shining brightly in the starry night sky, indicating it was still late into the night. Sansa tried to tamp down the feeling of panic that had inexplicably taken hold of her. She squinted through the dimness of her surroundings to discover any imminent threat but was relieved to find nothing sinister lurking about in the darkness.

Just as she meant to ignore the strange premonition and attempt to return to sleep, Sansa caught the sound of footsteps just outside her door. As the approaching steps stilled by her door, she pulled the furs up around her in an irrational attempt to shield herself from the mysterious person who meant to enter her room. As the door slowly creaked open on its hinges, a sliver of moonlight fell across the intruder's face, illuminating her crooked nose.

Heaving a pent up sigh of relief, Sansa threw off her coverings and left the warm bed to approach her maid. "Pia, what are you doing here? This is no time to be wandering about. One of the guards could mistake you for an intruder."

"That's why I'm here, m'lady," Pia whispered urgently before latching onto one of Sansa's wrists and trying to pull her through the door she had just entered. "The keep is under attack."

At that bit of information, Sansa snatched back her wrist and regarded her maid with a shocked look. "But that can't be! This fortress is impenetrable."

"Not if the soldiers were rendered… impaired, m'lady," her maid whispered back quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Pia tried once again to pull Sansa through the doorway behind her, but Sansa resisted, silently demanding that the maid explain herself. "A sleeping draught was put in the stew the men ate at evening meal," the girl answered quietly, the barest hint of guilt creeping into her reply. "They weren't able to defend the keep."

"And who put the draught there?" Sansa demanded of her, taking a small step backwards out of the beam of moonlight.

"I only want to help you, m'lady," Pia pleaded with her, but Sansa was not interested in what she had to say. All she could hear was that she had been betrayed once again.

Shaking her head in denial at the maid's earnest attempts to convince her of her loyalty, Sansa quickly darted around her and ran out the door before bolting it behind her. She could hear Pia shout her false name before the call was accompanied by the pounding of fists on the wooden door, but Sansa paid it no heed. Instead, she rushed down the hall towards the tower that housed Petyr's set of rooms where the lord of the keep would reside. She had to warn him of what was happening. She might suspect his motives in keeping her here, but she would rather trust her fate to his hands than to the men who she could hear even now in the lower levels of the keep claiming it as their own. Only the gods knew of what dire fate might befall her at their hands. The possibility of a brutal rape or consequences even worse than that flickered through her mind before Sansa resolutely pushed those thoughts away in favor or focusing on getting to Petyr.

However, when she reached his rooms, she found them empty with nary a soul in sight. Fighting down the feeling of panic that was slowly beginning to envelop her senses, Sansa began walking in the direction of the High Hall. The sounds of fighting and struggle floated through the air more prominently than before, and she had to force herself to ignore the feelings of fright and terror those sounds inspired as she continued on. The fighting was still far enough away to give her time to reach the Hall in search of any allies that could be found.

Pia had mentioned the sleeping draught that had rendered most of the knights incapable of fending off the intruders, but from the sound of clashing steel, enough must have escaped the trap to give the knights of the keep some hope of retaining control. Though whoever it was that had planned the invasion had been wise to attempt the siege at night. With the view that the seven towers of the keep had over the mountains of the Vale, an attack in the middle of the day would have been nigh unto impossible with the archers of the keep having a perfect opportunity to pick off any attackers in the light of day. The thought of intelligent attackers, however, did nothing to waylay Sansa's fear of discovery. Whoever they were, they were no allies of hers and she would be best served to find Petyr as soon as possible.

The frightened shaking of her limbs made it difficult for Sansa to walk as quickly as she wished, but eventually she was able to find her destination. It would have been too risky to light her surrounding with torch or flame, so she had to content herself with finding her way around in the shadowed dark. As she entered the High Hall where she had regularly taken meals during her time here, she noticed it looked much more frightening to her alerted senses than ever before. The moonlight shone through the slanted windows, reflecting off the blue-veined marble walls in a ghostly way, sending a shiver of dread through her bones.

Sansa's attention was pulled from the eerie surroundings by the sound of voices at the far end of the Hall. Walking on the soft pads of her feet to carry her silently across the stone floor, Sansa crept closer to the shadowed figures huddled together near the moon door, an instrument of execution that was meant to send its victims hurtling to their unfortunate demise at the foot of the mountains. Sansa could make out Petyr's figure in the sliver of light that fell through the windows and instantly tensed at the sight of a shiny dagger he held in his hand against the other figure's throat. She was too far away at present to make out the other person's face, but as she came closer she quickly drew back in shock and dread as the wandering ray of moonlight moved across the intruder's face.

Sansa was too frozen with shock to speak the person's name as her lips moved wordlessly to call out. _Amarah._ The cousin she had thought lost had come to find her, but the feeling of joy she should have felt was quickly overridden by terror as she saw Petyr open the moon door while he continued to hold her cousin immobile with his knife pressed against her pale throat. In a moment of horrifying clarity, Sansa realized what Lord Baelish intended to do. He meant to throw Amarah Baratheon to her death.

* * *

_Next chapter will backtrack a bit to find out how Amarah got herself in this not ideal position. Maybe she should have followed Jaime's orders after all… Keep reading to find out what happens next with Amarah and Jaime. Speaking of whom, we'll catch up with him in the next chapter as well. Also, the following update will fill in many of the missing holes on how Jaime managed to infiltrate the fortress. I just wanted to leave things a bit of a mystery for now. Thanks for reading! Reviews are always an extremely welcome and appreciated thing:)_


	50. Chapter 50

**Author's Note: **_The 50th chapter! I never thought I'd get here:) Thankfully, I was able to get past the heartache Sunday's episode caused me in order to finish this new chapter. I hope y'all can enjoy it despite any residual trauma you may feel as well. (Just to avoid any confusion for non-book readers, let me add that my description of the moon door in this story is the same as it appears in the books, not the show. In the books it is literally a door in the wall, not a gaping hole in the floor like it was portrayed on screen.)_

* * *

Jaime was going to kill her. _Well, he will if this bastard doesn't manage the feat first_. The thought flitted through Amarah's conscious as the cold wind whipped against her face through the moon door which Petyr Baelish had so graciously opened for her hasty, yet rather deadly, exit. Seeing the murderous fire in his eyes, she admitted to herself that perhaps this precarious position which she now found herself in was due mostly to her own rash stupidity. For a woman that prided herself on having a sharp wit and intelligence to match it, the silent confession didn't come easily.

It had _seemed_ like a good idea at the start, following Jaime and his men to the Eyrie. Yesterday eve she and her companions had traveled as far as they could until the sun slipped above the horizon. Amarah suspected Jaime would stay put during the day so as to avoid detection from the knights of the Vale, and she had made a similar decision. They hadn't come upon the other half of their party, but it didn't surprise Amarah as Jaime had a considerable head start over them already. In any case, it wasn't as though she _wanted_ to overtake him on the path. She didn't particularly fancy the notion of him having her bound hand and foot and forcibly carried back to camp, so she was perfectly content to follow a fair distance behind as they traveled the mountain road.

They had stayed put, gaining much needed rest while the mountains basked in the daylight from a hazy sun overhead, before resuming their journey that night. It had been a risky and dangerous path to undertake, but Clegane had been able to track Jaime's party far enough to get them within sight of the keep some hours after the glowing sun had sunk beneath the snowy peaks surrounding them. Brienne had informed Amarah during their trek of Jaime's plan to attack the keep, a plan which entailed Pia putting the soldiers, and whatever servants she could, under a stupor from which they would not easily awake while Peck lowered the drawbridge for Jaime and his men to cross. As they came closer to the keep, the sight of the lowered drawbridge and sounds of battle from within seemed to indicate that the Lion of Lannister's plan had proved somewhat of a success.

"My lady, you should wait here with the boy until the fortress has been secured," Brienne informed her just at the noise of clanging steel and shouts of alarm met their ears.

It was on the tip of Amarah's tongue to refute the suggestion, but a second thought caused her to hold back the rebellious response. "Of course, you are right," she agreed almost too quickly for Clegane's liking.

"Perhaps your body guard should stay as well to ensure your _safety_," he told her with a narrowed gaze that indicated his disbelief in her ability to obey orders.

He was wise to doubt the sincerity behind her words, but Amarah was not ready to grant him the satisfaction of being right. "There's no need for that," she rushed to assure her towering knight. "From the look of things, Ser Jaime will need all the help he can get. It would be better for all concerned if you both joined in the effort to take the keep. I shall be quite safe enough until you return."

Brienne still looked hesitant to accept the suggestion. "I don't think– "

Amarah was quick to cut off the argument before it began. "Unless I fall prey to an angry mountain goat in your absence, I do believe I shall be quite whole and healthy when you return."

"And you'll naturally stay here without trying to follow."

Amarah chose to ignore the sarcastic undertone of Clegane's comment and simply returned his stare with a gratingly, sweet smile. Just when she felt her cheeks would split from the effort, Brienne seemed to relent.

"You _must_ stay away from the fighting, my lady," she ordered with a hard look that would brook no stubbornness on Amarah's part. "Lannister would never forgive me, as I could never forgive myself, if you were to come to any harm."

The lady knight's confession caused Amarah equal parts guilt and comfort, but she deftly hid both reactions from view and bestowed Brienne with a curt nod of agreement. "Of course, I shall stay away from the fighting at all costs."

"Do you have the dagger?" Brienne wanted the reassurance before she left Amarah to fend for herself.

In reply, Amarah lifted her skirts to just above the strap resting between her knee and ankle. The glint of her little dagger twinkled briefly in the moonlight before she let the material fall back into place. "If we don't return by sunrise, my lady, don't try to look for us. Get back down the mountains as quickly as you can."

"Of course."

Brienne gave her one last hard look that wordlessly demanded her cooperation before turning on her heel and clomping up the slope to join in the struggle to take the fortress. Just as Clegane began to trail behind the blonde knight, he swung back to assess Amarah with a penetrating look.

"If you were to disobey orders like the stubborn, little female you are, you'd find it best to follow one of the outer stairways of the keep to avoid any fighting in the lower levels. They'll lead you to the great hall and towers that house the lords and ladies of the castle. Though be well warned, if you don't manage to avoid the knights of the Vale as well as you might hope, that dagger won't do shit to keep you safe. Best keep that in mind, _my lady_."

With those words of dismal comfort, he trudged up the rocky hills after Brienne until both were disappeared from sight. Amarah considered his words of warning for the briefest of moments (she could at least do him courtesy of paying that little consideration) before hiking up her skirts to trail after them.

"Wait!" Gendry called from behind her almost as soon as she took the first step. He fastened his blacksmith's grip on her bent elbow before forcing her back to peer at him through the night shadows. "Did you hear _nothing_ they just said? You'll get yourself killed if one of those soldiers happens to find you in there. What good can you do this cousin of yours if you happen to be dead?"

"I don't think _you_ understand," Amarah hissed back before wrenching her arm free. "My cousin is in there somewhere and I must find her. I'm not taking the chance of leaving the task to someone else. I abandoned her once for fear of saving my own skin, and I don't mean to do it again. Besides, I said I would stay away from the fighting, and I'll be doing just that if I follow Clegane's advice."

The scowl of disapproval firming Gendry's mouth into a hard line relaxed somewhat at hearing her reasons for ignoring good sense. "It's not cowardice to trust others to bring her back without putting yourself at risk."

"But if something goes awry when I could have somehow prevented it I could never forgive myself," Amarah argued back, grasping his chilled hands in an urgent attempt to make him understand.

It wasn't rational, disobeying the orders of those closest to her to stay out of danger, but she couldn't simply stand there like a ninny while the man she loved fought to save a cousin of her own blood. She had to do _something_ to help.

"You can stand here and keep the goats company or you can help me," Amarah issued him the ultimatum, and stepped away to continue her path towards the keep. "What will it be?"

Gendry rolled his eyes at her illogical choice to place herself in unnecessary danger but ultimately gave in with a disgusted sigh. "You do know that if I'm fortunate enough avoid a sword through my belly, Lannister will take care of that oversight when he finds out I helped you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Amarah ignored his concerns. "If he decides to bodily harm to anyone it will most likely be me."

Gendry rewarded that comment with a look of blatant skepticism but decided to remain silent as they approached the keep that still rang with the echoes of violence and death. Amarah's heart began to beat uncomfortably fast in her chest, transferring a violent tremble to her hands that she swiftly hid beneath the folds of her cloak to present the image of a calm, composed lady who knew exactly what she was about. In truth, Amarah had absolutely notion of what she was doing, but she didn't want Gendry be aware of that fact.

Once they reached the top of the hill, they were faced with the first task of crossing the large stone bridge that led from the hilltop into the large fortress. Luckily, Jaime's men had made far enough progress into the keep that the bridge and lowered drawbridge were both blessedly empty. Without giving herself the chance to think about it, Amarah grabbed Gendry's hand and crossed swiftly and silently until they were both standing before the pale, stone walls. Ignoring the gate leading to the open courtyard, Amarah chose instead to follow the trail around the keep until they came upon the carved stairway that Clegane had mentioned.

The stairs were narrow and shallow, certainly not wide enough to accommodate a marauding band of intruders who wished to infiltrate the interior of the well-fortified structure, but it would be easy enough for she and Gendry to climb if they were cautious about it.

"Up we go then," she told him with a manufactured look of optimism. Amarah bent her body forward so as to avoid tipping over the side and plummeting to her death below and began the slow steady climb up the wall. She could hear Gendry picking his way up the rocks behind her, but both were absolutely silent as they put their full concentration into reaching the top level in one piece.

In due time, they finally reached a circular plateau of sorts that circled the keep about midway up. The ledge was narrow much like the steps they had climbed to reach it. Amarah looked back to ensure Gendry had climbed to safety as well before hugging her body to the rough, hewn stone and circling her way around to a large window several paces away from where they stood. The window seemed close enough to the ground for them both to climb through without much trouble, and Amarah was relieved to find the assessment an accurate one when she arrived at the spot.

She hiked up her skirts and prepared to climb through before Gendry's voice stopped her momentarily. "Gods! Don't just climb through," he whispered loud enough for her to hear. "First look to make sure no one's lurking about in there."

Amarah did as he asked then sent back a nod of affirmation that it was safe before resuming her attempts to climb through. Once she was in, she poked her head out to call Gendry to her, but his progress along the wall was slower than she would have liked. He must have glimpsed her impatience because he waved her on with the one hand not clinging on to the structure for dear life.

"Don't glare at me like that. I'll be with you shortly. Have a look around in there to see where we are exactly, and I'll catch up."

"All right," Amarah agreed, and quickly pulled her head back in. She proceeded to take two steps away from the window but drew to a quick halt to retrieve the little weapon hidden beneath her plenteous skirts. Clegane might think it less than adequate protection, but it was better than nothing.

Tightening her grip around the small handle, Amarah resumed her light-footed tread down the stone passageway. She tried to recall her father's description of the hall from when she was a small girl, and she suddenly wished she had paid closer attention to his recollections of memories from the past. Then, perhaps, she could better discern her present location. Clegane had mentioned the High Hall which, if memory served her correctly, should be somewhere in the main tower of the keep where they were now.

As she continued along, she could feel the faint vibration caused by the shouts and calls of the soldiers who struggled below. An image popped into her head just then of Jaime fighting against his foes with only one hand at his disposal, and she quickly had to shut the disheartening picture from her mind. Jaime could take care of himself, and he certainly wouldn't like the thought of her fretting over him. Right now she needed to reach the cousin she had been sent here to find.

After wandering around in the dark for what seemed much longer than necessary, Amarah found what appeared to be the large receiving hall she had been searching for. She sent a glance over her should and was disgruntled to find Gendry no where in sight. _Oh Gods,_ she fretted silently. _I should never have left him. Who knows where he's gone off to now?_

Just as she was about to turn back around to recover her lost brother, she caught sight of another shadow moving through the darkness. Giving a smile of relief she prepared to call him to her, but the words died in her throat as the shadowed figure came closer within view.

"Something the matter?" asked the sinister devil with a mocking smile that seemed so at home on his scheming face. "Are you not happy to see me, my lady? It's been much too long, I'm afraid. Since you've been so gracious as to send your Lannister companion to invade my keep, I must return the courtesy by showing you about the fortress you've attempted to steal from me. Let's start in here shall we? There's a particular feature I'd like you to see first."

Amarah didn't bother to return the greeting, but raised her arm to strike out with the dagger pressed to her palm. To her everlasting disappointment, Baelish proved too quick for her, smacking the little weapon away with a quick lash of his wrist. She attempted to run then, but was quickly pulled up short by the touch of a wickedly sharp blade pressed against the vein in her neck.

"Now let's not be rude, Lady Amarah," he pressed the blade further into her neck, pushing her back into the large space of the High Hall. "You must allow me the pleasure of showing you about my keep. Be certain to pay careful attention. After all, it might very well be the last thing you ever see."

* * *

"It's not much farther now," Peck informed Jaime as he led him through the dark halls of the Eyrie.

It had been a long, hard struggle following an arduous climb up the unforgiving mountain path, but victory was in sight. As Jaime followed along behind his squire, he quickly swept an arm across his forehead to brush away a slow trickle of sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. He was tired and filthy, but none of that mattered worth a shit. With his men securing the fortress down below, Peck had managed to find a passage leading away from the din that would bring Jaime to the source of this hunt, Sansa Stark. He could imagine Amarah's rage at learning she had been left behind, but when he returned with her cousin safe and sound, her anger would be swept away by the wave gratefulness at his daring rescue of the girl. At least, he hoped she would react in that way.

Jaime considered the thought with a worried frown, but he was quickly distracted from the notion by the sound of hollering and pounding that grew louder and louder the further they walked along the darkened hall. "What in the seven hells is that racket?"

Peck stopped to listen carefully before turning to Jaime with a stricken look. "It's Pia, my lord!"

Following this discovery, both men directly increased their speed to quicker reach the source of the yelling. Peck was the first to arrive at the barred, wooden door. He hastily lifted the latch and a screaming Pia came tumbling through as one of her flailing fists managed to strike Peck's chin with a solid thunk. Peck gave a howl of pain, and they ended up in a pitiful pile of flailing limbs on the stone floor.

"Where's the Stark girl?" Jaime questioned Pia impatiently, reaching down to retrieve her from the undignified position on top of poor Peck who was still rubbing his bruised chin.

Pia had to take a deep gasp of air to refill her depleted lungs in order to force out a reply. "She must have gone to find Lord Baelish, m'lord. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. We have to find her before its too late."

"Where would she have gone to find him?" Jaime tried to maintain a cool and collected state of mind even as the prospect of victory seemed to be gradually slipping from his grasp.

Pia scrunched up her crooked nose in concentration as she tried to recall any information that might help. "His rooms first, I suspect, m'lord, but she won't find him there. It'd be best to look in the High Hall. I heard one of the other servants mentioning a secret passage there that leads out into the mountains. He might try to take her out that way."

"Very good," Jaime rewarded her information with a tight smile before taking off down the passageway in a rush, leaving the other two behind to collect themselves.

Jaime knew enough of the keep to make his way to the High Hall without any assistance, and he moved as quickly as his legs would take him in order to reach his destination before it was too late. As he was running along, he didn't notice until too late the figure meandering through the dark, and both came together with a hard thud that almost managed to knock Jaime on his arse. Quickly regaining his balance, Jaime retrieved his still bloody sword from its scabbard before pulling the other man to his feet and pressing the deadly weapon into his side.

"Wait!" a familiar voice quickly halted his actions.

Jaime hurriedly moved to a nearby window in order to shed a ray of bright moonlight across his unknown companion. Once the boy's Baratheon features were fully exposed in the silver light, Jaime pulled back with a startled jerk. "You!"

"Yes, m'lord," Gendry attempted to meet Jaime's ire with a placating smile.

"You had better have a good explanation for this, boy!" Jaime threatened, placing his sword at the boy's side again in a pronounced threat.

The look on Gendry's voice indicated that the explanation was anything but good. "I didn't have a choice, m'lord. She was determined to come– "

Jaime's blood instantly turned to ice in his veins at those words. He didn't even need to ask the identity of the girl Gendry was referring to. "Where is she?!"

He roared the words so loudly in the boy's face that Gendry merely flinched from the impact without venturing a reply. "Answer me!" Jaime commanded him with a fierce shake of his shoulders.

"I- I don't know for certain!" Gendry hastened to explain. "She went this way when she left me, and I was going to meet up with her along the way."

Jaime quickly shoved the boy away without waiting for any further explanation and took off running at a much quicker pace than before. His temples throbbed painfully and his lungs pumped in gulps of air as he sprinted along the darkened hall to reach the princess before it was too late. The sight that met him once he reached the High Hall caused his heart to seize abruptly in his chest. There stood Amarah at the farthest end of the room, hanging halfway out a door that led to the foot of the mountains, a drop that would certainly lead to her death. Jaime realized with a jolt of dread that he was too far to reach her in time. There was nothing he could do to save her.

"Baelish!" he called out across the wide hall, his authoritative voice reverberating off the stone walls. "If you let her fall, I'll pull your innards out through your throat and feed them back to you."

Baelish looked away momentarily from his prey to grace Jaime with a superior look that made him want to slice the man's head in two. "You've arrived just in time, Kingslayer," Littlefinger returned with a knowing smirk. "You've both done a marvelous job of interfering with my plans, and I can't possibly let you get away with it unscathed. Forcing you to watch her die will be payment enough for your sins, I think."

Jaime's felt his breath leave in a rush as he saw one of Amarah's feet slip off he stone ledge, leaving her dangling out the door with not much else to hold her inside. She turned a tearful gaze to Jaime with a silent apology written there that threatened to squeeze his heart dry. He ignored her look of defeat and attempted to return to bargaining with Littlefinger.

"You know what will happen to you if you do this, Baelish," he threatened the man without allowing for even the smallest waver in his voice.

"Ah, but you forget, Ser Jaime," he returned with that customary self-satisfied smirk. "I know more of this keep then you do. I can escape taking Lady Sansa with me, and we'll recommence with our plans to retake her home in Winterfell."

"You mean _your_ plans to take Winterfell for yourself, you scheming bastard," Jaime spit at him in disgust.

Baelish made no attempt to deny it, instead returning his attention to the girl about to be pushed to her death. "Say goodbye, Kingslayer."

Jaime heard a wail of despair escape his lips as Baelish raised his hand to give that one last push, but the expected blow never came. Jaime looked on in disbelief as Baelish gave a violent jerk as if suffering an attack of some sort before a gurgling sound emitted from his gaping mouth and he slumped to the floor in silence. Once the silent figure had fallen to the floor, Jaime saw the reason for Baelish's stymied attack. Another figure stood beside his fallen corpse there in the darkness, holding a dagger that now shone blood red in the moonlight.

Jaime's attention was abruptly pulled from their unexpected savior when he noticed Amarah who was still flailing about in the vicious wind that threatened to finish the job Baelish started. He wasted no time in going to her and was soon wrapping his strong arms around her waist as he pulled her once again to safety. Once the door was firmly shut, only then did Jaime allow himself the chance to breathe easy. He pulled her back far enough to examine the familiar face and ensure that she truly was unharmed. Amarah returned the gesture, running her hands over the lines of his face, assuring herself in turn that he really was there. Jaime pulled her to him then in a fierce embrace. Soon the panic would fade, leaving white-hot anger in its place in response to her foolishness, but for now he was content to simply hold her in his arms again.

He was afforded a few valuable moments with her just before they simultaneously remembered the other figure standing over the dead body of Petyr Baelish a few steps away. Amarah disentangled herself from Jaime's embrace before cautiously approaching her mysterious rescuer. Jaime looked at the girl's face, and was immediately struck by a feeling of recognition. Her hair was several shades darker than he recalled from their last meeting, but the stamp of the Stark features was clearly marked on her face.

Amarah must have recognized it as well, because she held out her hands to gently trace the girl's features, as she had done to Jaime moments before. The girl stood rigidly still for the silent inspection before a betraying quiver disrupted her serene mask.

"Amarah?" She spoke so quietly that Jaime barely caught the sound of the whispered word.

Amarah's lip then began to tremble then as well before a visible rush of tears welled up in her eyes at the girl's softly worded question. "Yes," she assured her quickly before reaching to pull her into a tight embrace. "I'm here."

She continued to gently repeat those two words as if to assure them both that this was real. They really were together again. Sansa Stark began to cry in earnest then, desperately clinging to the cousin who had gone through so much to find her. Amarah made no attempt to hide her tears either as they both sobbed long and loudly, but Jaime knew he needn't be alarmed by the emotional display. The two women didn't cry tears of pain. These weren't the cries of despair that had he had heard fall from Amarah's lips that night in the woods where she learned of her loved ones' deaths. As both females kneeled to the ground, still embracing each other and crying noisily, Jaime understood that these tears were of a different kind. They were simply tears of joy.

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_So that was a bit of a long update, but writing the emotional family reunion provided some much needed therapy for me:) I haven't done this in a while so I'll give it another go. If I can get at least 10 reviews or more for this 50th chapter, I'll have the next one up tomorrow morning, and it will include more of the cousins' reunion plus the confrontation that inevitably needs to follow Amarah's rash decision. (Sidenote: I may throw in a little bit o' lovin' too. We'll see:) Thanks a bunch for reading!_


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter as promised, and for those that wanted it,__there's some lovin' in here too! Read on!_

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Amarah wrapped the furs tightly around Sansa's shoulders before stepping back to regard her with an expression of motherly concern. "Are you certain you're feeling all right? You did just kill a man, after all."

"Only to stop him from doing the same to you," Sansa reminded her, glancing up over the rim of her cup to send her cousin a look of longsuffering patience. "Please don't worry about me. The sleep draught Pia sent should help," she murmured softly and placed the empty cup in Amarah's outstretched hand.

Amarah wanted to press her further, but decided to let the subject drop. Once they had both managed to gain control of their emotions in the Hall, Jaime had seen to moving Baelish's body while Amarah tended to the young girl who had unexpectedly put an end to the schemer's life. As they were to stay in the keep before heading back down the mountains the following morning, Amarah had taken Sansa back to her room where Pia was waiting to plead with the younger girl for forgiveness due to the part she played in deceiving her. Now that Sansa understood the reason for Pia's part in the attack, she readily forgave her and even requested some more of that sleeping draught be brought up to her in order to ensure a night of peaceful rest.

Pia had happily agreed, immensely thankful to no longer be the object of the young noblewoman's anger, and scampered off in the direction of the kitchens to do as she was bid. While they had waited for Pia to return with the draught, Sansa explained to Amarah how Petyr Baelish had whisked her away from the capital the very eve of Joffrey's ill-fated nuptials in order to establish her as his bastard daughter in the fortress of her aunt Lysa Tully. It was then that she had to inform Amarah of Baelish's hand in assisting Lady Lysa to her death, the very same way he had meant to send Amarah to hers.

Amarah had also intended to tell her cousin in turn of Lady Stark's odd fate until the moment was lost to Pia's sharp rap on the wooden door. They hadn't had the opportunity to speak again until the draught was mostly all gone and Sansa leaned back into with the warm furs watching Amarah with a heavy-lidded gaze. Despite Amarah's doubts to her cousin's claims that she was well enough, she was content to let the matter of Sansa's part in Baelish's death rest until another time. Now they needed to discuss something of much greater importance.

Seating herself on the edge of Sansa's fur covered bed, Amarah gently reached to clasp her cousin's folded hands. "Sansa," she began carefully, wanting to find just the right words how to tell her. "What all do you know of how Aunt Catelyn and Robb died at the Tully wedding?"

The fatigue in Sansa's eyes was slowly replaced by a sad despondency at hearing Amarah's words. "Petyr told me everything."

When Amarah realized she would say nothing else she continued on to break the heavy silence. "Well, there was something he most likely neglected to include in his description of the events following the massacre."

"What do you mean?" Sansa questioned, rising up on the furs as far as she could to search Amarah's furtive gaze. "He said Roose Bolton stabbed Robb through the heart and Mother had her throat slit– " She had to stop for a moment to compose herself, taking a shuddering breath in order to finish the thought. "Mother had her throat slit by one of the Freys, and it was all done on the orders of Tywin Lannister."

Amarah didn't miss the slightly accusing tone that colored Sansa's last words but decided to forgo the explanation of her relationship with Jaime for the present. Instead she turned the topic back to what she needed most to discuss with her young cousin. "There's more to tell that he did not know." Sansa raised her brows the slightest bit to prompt the rest of Amarah's explanation. "Sansa, Aunt Catelyn died that day just as you were told, but… " Now it was Amarah's turn to trail off as she searched for the words that would explain the situation to her cousin without causing her to appear a raving lunatic. "That is, well, you see she isn't quite as dead as we originally thought."

"How can that be?" Sansa whispered the words softly, eyes widened in shock.

Amarah wished she could provide her with an adequate explanation but was only able to shrug her shoulders haplessly. "I wish I knew but please don't mistake my news for something it is not," she made sure to warn her. "This woman who sent us here, Lady Stoneheart as she calls herself, she's not the Catelyn you and I know so well. I want you to be prepared for this when you see her."

Sansa considered those words for a moment, dropping her eyes to study the fur coverings which she now twisted between her fingers that knotted together in agitation. "Is that where you're taking me?" she asked, looking up at Amarah once more. "To see her?"

"Yes," Amarah answered with an affirmative nod. "Whether she's the same woman we both remember or not, she needs to know you're alive. You understand, don't you?"

Sansa closed her eyes wearily but tilted her head in acknowledgement of Amarah's request. "I think so."

Amarah wasn't convinced her cousin truly grasped the full meaning of what she had been trying to say, but from the sleepy look on her face, she decided to save the remainder of their conversation for a later time. "I'll leave you now then," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Sansa's brow.

Just as she stood to leave, she felt a weak hand reach out from the bed to catch on to her retreating skirts. Puzzled, Amarah turned back to see what it was Sansa wanted. "How did you know to find me here?"

The question came out on a loud yawn, but Amarah was able to discern her meaning. "I went to Sandor Clegane for help. He helped alert me to your alliance with Baelish which led us here."

Amarah had thought Sansa almost on the verge of sleep, so she was surprised to see those blue eyes snap open so quickly at hearing her response. "The Hound is here?"

"Yes," Amarah replied, her gaze narrowing in speculation at Sansa's interest in Sandor Clegane. "He's with the other men, I suppose. He helped in the effort to take the keep from Baelish."

A strange light of speculation lit Sansa's eyes for the briefest of moments before she quickly closed them, hiding the remainder if her thoughts from Amarah's view. "I'll sleep now," she muttered softly before turning to the side to accommodate herself more comfortably beneath the furs.

"Sleep well," Amarah softly bid her farewell, before exiting the little chamber and bolting the door behind her. It was most likely a silly notion on her part, but now that they had found the little, lost Stark, she wasn't going to be taking any chances on losing her again.

After clicking the latch firmly into place, Amarah looked up to find the towering form of Brienne striding down the corridor towards her. "Ser Jaime wishes you to come to him, my lady," she informed Amarah as soon as she reached the spot where she stood.

Amarah didn't miss the hint of trepidation in that deceptively simple request. "Is he very angry with me?" She knew in the High Hall that Jaime's relief at her safe rescue might have overtaken any other feelings that might come about as a result of her disobedience. She could only imagine the tongue lashing he had in store for her when that relief inevitably gave way to the fury that was sure to follow.

"He didn't seem at all happy, my lady," Brienne returned, the trepidation in her voice now giving way to censure.

"It was foolish of me to disobey, I know," Amarah tried to explain to her knight but was only met with a look of stony silence. "I don't expect you to understand, Brienne," she went on when it became clear the knight would say nothing to ease her discomfort. "But I simply couldn't stand aside while my cousin was within arms reach and I could be of some help in finding her."

Despite Amarah's attempt to explain herself, it didn't appear as if Brienne was quite ready forgive her mistress's rash behavior. "I understand that you wanted to help," she told her with a sympathetic gaze. "But, my lady, you must understand that it is my duty to do anything within my power to protect you. When you won't allow me to do that, I can be of no use to you."

"I'm sorry, Brienne," Amarah responded contritely, slipping her gaze to study the stone floor at their feet rather than look at the hurt expression on her knight's face. "I should have considered that before running off on my own. I shan't do it again."

"I know, my lady," Brinne finally relented. "But you needn't apologize to me any more. There's another who wishes to talk to you now."

Amarah gave an audible groan at her reminder. "Best to get it over with then," she sighed. "Lead the way."

The pitying glance Brienne sent her before turning to lead to where Jaime awaited did little to soothe Amarah's rattled composure. It was a silent walk along the passageway, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls, making the place seem more stoic and gloomy than even before. It almost felt as if she were walking to her death, but Amarah quickly shook off the silly notion. _He can't be that angry with me_, she tried to tell herself, though the reassurance did little to help calm the frantic flutter of her heart against her ribs. _Or can he?_

When they reached Jaime's borrowed chambers and the doors opened to reveal the livid face behind them, Amarah discovered that he _could_, in fact, be that angry. She instinctively stepped toward her knight for protection against his wrath, but Jaime's sharp eyes picked up on the tiny movement.

"Don't look to her for protection _now_, Princess," he informed her, not even bothering to hide the rampant rage in his voice. "You managed well enough before on your own, did you not?"

In the interest of self preservation, Amarah put in place the most remorseful expression she could muster to try and dissipate as much of his anger as possible. "I was only– "

Jaime didn't even allow her the chance to explain. "You were only what? Trying your damned hardest to get yourself killed?! I ought to take you across my knee and instill some good sense in you whether you like it or not."

The step towards Brienne was much larger this time than the one before. "You wouldn't dare," she shot back quickly.

The grim smile he gave in return did little to reassure her. "Brienne," Jaime addressed the knight while keeping his burning gaze pinned on the the princess like a hunter waiting to strike down his prey. "Get out."

Amarah quickly whirled to face the lady knight. "Brienne, don't you dare take one step out of this room."

It didn't bode well for Amarah that Brienne hesitated in responding to that order. "I won't give the order again, wench," Jaime's irate voice floated to them from beyond Amarah's turned shoulder.

Amarah saw her faithful guard mouth a silent apology before she obeyed the tersely worded command and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her and effectively trapping Amarah with the raging, wild lion. The lion stalked her slowly then, backing her up inch by inch until her back was pressed against the door which Brienne had just closed following her retreat. Judging by the livid expression on her lion's face, perhaps that moon door would have been a more merciful fate than this.

Instead of yanking her to him and landing her across his knee as he had threatened to do, Jaime pressed his fingers into her upper arm in a grip so tight she knew she would wear the marks of it the following day. His golden hand he used to force her wandering gaze to his. When she looked into those eyes leaping with flames more fearsome than that of wildfire, she caught sight of something else as well. Terror. Fear. Pain. A reflection of the horror she had heard in his cry just as she had been about to plummet to her death. She had caused him this pain, this powerful, proud lion of hers, and she felt her heart drop at the dismal realization. She opened her mouth to spout whatever apologies came to mind, but he cut her short by pressing a frantic, violent kiss to her lips instead.

His tongue marauded and pillaged her open mouth, not granting her any mercy. He tasted her with deep licks, pressing her even further into the wooden door before ripping his mouth from hers and pinning her with that wild, green gaze. "How many times do you think you can cheat death, you little fool?" his lashed out at her, his hot breath hitting her face in steady waves. "Why can't you simply do as you're told?"

He roared this last question at her like a beast would frighten a stag in the wild before he devoured it, and Jaime promptly commenced with doing just that, not even giving her the chance to defend herself from his accusations. His mouth was back on hers again. She could taste the fear and anger in that kiss as he returned to ravaging her lips and tongue. She didn't try to resist him though. If this was how he chose to deal with the fear she had caused him, if this was how he wanted to channel the anger, she would let him. She only wanted to make that look of desperate fear in his eyes vanish; apologize to him in the only way that words could never accomplish.

As his mouth broke from hers to travel down her neck, his teeth rested lightly on the cord of her neck before sinking in to cause her to arch towards him in pleasure. "Forgive me," she heard the words tumble from her lips even as he continued to devour her whole. "Forgive me, Jaime."

He lifted his head then to reward her apology with another thorough kiss. "You'll have to make the apology better than that, Princess," he panted in between kisses.

Amarah looked into his eyes again and still saw hints of the fear that had had torn at her heart so, and determined completely ride the emerald gaze of that dreaded fear. She was safe now and in his arms where she belonged, even if he didn't approve of her methods of finding her cousin, it was over now. They were both safe and they were together.

"It's over now," she leaned forward to whisper urgently in his ear. "I'm here. I'm with you. Please don't be angry." A betraying sob gave her away as the last words left her lips, and he pulled her back to look into her face.

The anger which had lit his eyes like a brilliant wildfire only moments ago was less pronounced now, though hints of it still lingered there. "I cannot let you die, Princess," he confessed then, touching his forehead to hers as his breath mingled with her own. "You cannot be so reckless! Do not expect me to allow you to willingly endanger your life and then stand aside quietly when you nearly get yourself killed due to your foolishness."

"But you must not try to trick or deceive me into doing your bidding either," Amarah returned his plea with one of her own for him to understand. Jaime opened his mouth to argue the point, but Amarah placed her finger across his lips to hold the rebuttal at bay. "I understand why you did it. I didn't at first, but I do now. Despite that, you _know_ who I am, Jaime Lannister. I'm stubborn and headstrong, and I always will be, I'm afraid. I can't be pushed aside while you fight my battles for me. Protect me as much as you wish, but don't keep me from your side. Protect me while I stand _by_ your side."

Jaime's eyes remained closed while she spoke, and when he said nothing in response to her request, she feared she might have gone too far. However, those fears were put at ease when his lids slowly opened, revealing a tenderness in his gaze she hadn't expected to find. "We both went about this wrong it would seem," he told her then before placing another kiss against her trembling lips. It was more gentle than the first, but no less potent. Amarah felt the affects of his kiss all the way to the tips of her toes as they curled in pleasure at his touch. "We'll have to do better next time."

He bent to kiss her again, but Amarah pulled back. If he kissed her now, she would forget the words that needed to be said. "No more leaving me in ignorance of your plans and sneaking about behind my back?"

He quirked a golden brow in response. "Only if you make a similar promise to never run off again without either me or Brienne by your side. If I ever find you wandering off like that again, I _will_ take you across my knee then."

Amarah returned that threat with a seductive smile this time rather than a horrified glare. "I would rather you just _take_ me," she purred softly in his ear.

Without another word, Jaime swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed several feet away. Amarah hadn't bothered to ask what rooms they were in, but right now with Jaime's hard, virile form so close, that thought was the farthest thing from her mind. Depositing her on the soft furs, Jaime quickly stepped away to strip out of his clothes.

"Wait!" Amarah called out to him just as his hand reached to pull his tunic over his head.

Jaime looked back to her with a questioning glance. "Something the matter?"

"I want you to let me do that," Amarah returned before rising from the bed and approaching the spot where he stood. "I've dressed you before, but I've never had the pleasure of doing the reverse."

"Far be it from me to deny the princess of what she wants," Jaime answered as a faintly amused smile played at the corners of his mouth. There was a silent challenge there as well, and Amarah didn't hesitate in accepting it. Before taking time to rethink her actions, she boldly reached towards the tunic which dangled halfway out of his breeches and pulled it free the rest of the way before slowly lifting it over his head. With each new inch of golden skin that she revealed, Amarah felt her anticipation rise, her blood turning thick and hot in her veins in preparation of what was to come.

Once the tunic was disposed of, she went to work on the breeches as well, sliding them down his legs along with his smallclothes and kneeling to the floor to work them all the way off. From that position it was hard not to notice how ready he was to be inside her, but she ignored the evidence of his excitement and instead returned to stand before him.

"Now do the same for yourself, Princess," Jaime ordered softly with that same challenging smile from before.

It felt terribly wicked stripping herself bare before him, but Amarah forced her trembling fingers to do his bidding. She didn't rush the job, though. She removed each piece of clothing just as slowly as she had from him. Though he didn't say anything, Amarah could hear Jaime's breath grow quicker and more labored as the minutes passed slowly on, indicating his approval of her performance. She didn't dare look at him as she went about the task, but once the last stitch was removed, she looked up to find him gazing at her with a look so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes.

She squeezed her eyes shut then to prevent the moisture from escaping and shook her head in wonder. How was it that he could make her feel so much when for most of her life she had been determined to feel as little as possible? She barely recognized herself when she was with him, the emotions she had fought for so long to store so deeply within herself rising to the surface without thought or care. "What have you done to me, Jaime Lannister?" wondered aloud then, opening her eyes to find him just as devastating to her senses as before.

"No more than you've done to me," he replied tenderly before sweeping her up in his arms as before and traveling back to the abandoned bed.

Instead of laying Amarah on her back as she expected him to do, Jaime surprised her by switching their positions, so that his back lay against the furs with her straddling his narrow hips. When she looked down at him in bewilderment, Jaime moved his golden hand to trace an invisible line from between her breasts to the point where her heated flesh met his.

"I'm still waiting for that apology, Princess," he told her with a depraved grin.

It was then that Amarah understood what he wanted her to do. Cautiously, she lifted on her knees to reach between them, placing his body at the place to receive her. Jaime offered no help whatsoever, and simply leaned back, looking up at her with equal parts amusement and rampant lust. Never one to back down from a challenge, Amarah gripped him in one hand before sliding back down to take him. From the hiss of pleasure that escaped his mouth when he slid inside her tight passage, she assumed she must have done something right.

Rising on her knees almost to the point of releasing him completely, she sunk back down more quickly than before and was rewarded for the effort with a loud groan of pleasure. Encouraged by his response, she rose again before adjusting the angle the slightest bit and slid back down. This time he went much deeper than before, managing to elicit a moan of pleasure from her as well. Deciding that this was proving more enjoyable than she had originally thought it to be, Amarah set about experimenting with the different angles and speeds with which she could ride him. After several minutes of this she heard Jaime mutter something about faster, but she ignored the command in favor or keeping her own slow steady rhythm.

"Gods," Jaime moaned after she refused to increase their pace, the word making it sound as if he were in agony of the acutest kind.

He then flipped them without warning, pinning her hips beneath his as he set the pounding rhythm he had been craving all along. Amarah tried to ride out the pleasure but he was too relentless, not allowing her even the slightest chance to escape his hammering thrusts. With a loud cry, she came almost violently, raking her blunt nails down his back as the waves of pleasure wrung every last ounce of strength from her bones. Once she felt the last of the delicious tremors begin to fade, Jaime began to shudder in her arms as he finally lost the battle to the intense pleasure as well. He didn't withdraw from her then as he had done before, but she was too sated too care. Once he stilled in her embrace, Jaime pressed a soft kiss to her mouth before withdrawing from her heat and turning her so that her body lay curved against his.

Sleep was almost upon her then, but Amarah needed to say one last thing before she slipped into unconsciousness. "Jaime?"

The only sound that met her query at first was the sound of heavy breathing, giving her the impression that he had fallen asleep, but finally she heard him mumble a response against her back. "Hmmm?"

"Are you done being angry with me?"

She felt a mouth press to her shoulder then before it smiled against her back. "Go to sleep, Princess."

This time Amarah had no difficulty in complying with his order. As she slowly drifted off to sleep with the sound of Jaime's soft snores behind her, Amarah decided that perhaps this fate _had_ proved preferable to the moon door after all.

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_Ok, so things got a little bit mushy there at the end, but I thought it would be nice to give them a romantic moment with one another before heading back to deal with the undead Lady Cat. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, mushiness and all:) As always thank you for reading! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or comments!_

**A/N:** _Let me add this quick thought, since apparently this didn't come across as clear as I would have liked. Amarah never actually believes at any point that Jaime will physically abuse her in some way. She's afraid of him making good on the threat to give her a good spanking, but the opportunity comes for Jaime to prove to her that he would never actually raise a hand to her despite how livid he might be. That was the idea I was getting at, and I apologize if it came across in a more negative way._


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's Note:** _Thank you again for the comments and reviews:) In this chapter I'll be introducing some of the San/San storyline. I had considered doing separate oneshots for the two of them, but since they're both more essential to the story from here on out, I decided just to go ahead and include their side romance in here. It won't detract from Amarah/Jaime though, so don't fret it your not really a San/San shipper like myself:) Read on and please enjoy!_

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Sansa did not understand the way Amarah looked at Jaime Lannister. The same girl whose disposition could once freeze over a desert waste if she so wished, now looked at the ruthless Kingslayer as if she actually liked him. Even worse, it almost appeared as if she might even fancy herself in love with the man. The way they had embraced after the Kingslayer pulled Amarah to safety had weighed heavily on Sansa's mind well into the next morning. She quite simply couldn't fathom how the logical, level-headed cousin she had known since birth could behave so friendly towards a man who should be considered their enemy, but she meant to find out.

There had been no time for conversation that morning as Pia bustled into her room and informed her that their party was already assembling in the courtyard below to begin their trek down the mountain. Sansa had felt a wonderful sense of freedom settle around her as she put on her traveling clothes and packed up any precious few items that she wished to take with her, not that there had been many. This place had never really been a home to her, despite Petyr's attempts to make it so. Sansa knew where her true home was, and she would never forget.

Once she had been prepared to leave, Pia led her down to the courtyard where her cousin was waiting. Sansa caught sight of Jaime Lannister's white cloak fluttering in the breeze as he left Amarah's side and moved to the head of the company as they began their way out of the fortress. Harry was standing nearby as well, with the flakes of fluffy, white snow mingling with the golden strands of his hair. He would not be departing with them. Sansa had been told last night during all the confusion that Harry had managed to escape death during the attack on the keep, and the Kingslayer saw no reason to withhold the fortress from him under the condition that he would in no way oppose the Lannister cause in the war. In the interest of saving his own skin, Harry had agreed to the demands. His quick loyalty to the Lannister cause came as no great surprise to Sansa. Harry wasn't the type of man who she would have thought to describe as particularly strong willed, or steadfast for that matter. She didn't consider the loss of their connection with one another to be a great one.

Sansa moved her gaze from Harry without bothering to issue a farewell and went to meet Amarah who was now in the company of the tallest and most fierce looking woman Sansa had ever laid eyes on. "This is Lady Brienne of Tarth," Amarah made the introductions after noticing Sansa's impolite stare.

The lady under inspection didn't turn a hair at Sansa's curious looks. Feeling suddenly contrite, Sansa realized that she must have been an object of intense scrutiny for most of her life. "I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell," the greeting automatically fell from her lips, accompanied by a shallow curtsey.

The stoic figure returned her introduction with a short bow. "I am glad to finally meet you, my lady. We have searched most long and hard to find your whereabouts."

"I know," Sansa murmured in return. "I am most grateful for it."

A good natured smile escaped Amarah's lips at Sansa's formality. "There's no need to act like the impeccably mannered lady of the keep, cousin," she ordered light-heartedly. "You're among friends now."

Sansa cast a pointed glance in the direction of Jaime Lannister. "Am I?"

Amarah opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the order to move out. Sansa could tell her cousin was annoyed at the interruption. "We'll discuss that in due time," she promised with a firm look that didn't invite further discussion. Following that edict, she dropped the subject in favor of falling into step with the rest of the company.

Sansa followed her example and they spent the following hours in companionable silence as they devoted their full concentration to picking their way along the steep mountain path. As they walked cautiously along, a multitude of questions ran through Sansa's mind, but she understood that now was not the time or place to discuss them. So she had to content herself with marching along to the orders of a man whose family she despised while Amarah acted as if it were nothing out of the ordinary for a Baratheon and a Stark to be traveling under the protection of a Lannister. After several hours of arduous walking, Sansa caught sound of a shouted order for the company to halt for a short respite in order to regain their strength. Shortly, they would recommence with the journey.

Once their marching came to a complete stop, Sansa took the opportunity give voice to one of the many questions floating around in her muddled brain. "Where do we plan to go to meet with the Lady Stoneheart?"

"She's not just Lady Stoneheart, Sansa. She's your mother," her cousin made sure to remind her before she quickly amended that thought. "That is, some of Aunt Cat is in that vengeful soul somewhere. She's the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners so we will have to cross the Riverlands to find them."

"Do you expect me to stay with her when we do find them?" Sansa pressed, wanting to know more of Amarah's intended plans for her.

A look of mild alarm crossed her cousin's face at the question regarding Lady Stoneheart. "Of course I won't leave you with her! If Jaime allows it, I hope for the both of us to return to Winterfell and reclaim it in the name of the Starks. In your name, and yours alone."

Amarah's words confused Sansa because they bespoke of an allegiance to the house Stark while still aligning herself with the Kingslayer. Sansa longed to let loose the stream of questions and accusations of betrayal from her rigidly held tongue, but she schooled her features into an impassive mask to hold the words at bay. However, it appeared her cousin would not be fooled.

"I know that look."

"I don't know what you mean." Sansa attempted to play the fool, but her cousin was too clever for that.

Amarah took her cousin by both shoulders and forced her meet an unflinching gaze that seemed to bore straight into Sansa's soul. "I've seen many times before that carefully constructed mask you wear, as if you have no emotions simmering beneath the surface worth seeing. I know that look because it's the very one I wore for so many years living the capital. You don't need that look with me Sansa. I want to know your thoughts, and you need never fear letting me see them."

"I don't think you will like them," Sansa admitted, letting a disappointed frown creep slowly out from behind the serene mask.

"I believe I can already guess some of them." Sansa saw Amarah's gaze move from her to the edge of the company where Jaime Lannister stood, the golden sun glinting off his polished armor, making him to appear like a golden god of the mountain. The look of arrogant confidence on his face did nothing to diminish the illusion.

"How can you trust him?" Sansa blurted out before thinking better of it. "How can you ask _me_ to trust him and his protection?"

"I'm not asking you to trust him," Amarah looked back at her without even a hint of guilt. "I'm asking you to trust _me._ I know Jaime Lannister is a man who can be trusted because he has proven to me that he is. I'm not asking you to accept that fact on blind faith. You will have to discover his honor in your own time. The only thing I ask is that you trust me to do what is in your best interest. I would never knowingly endanger you or place you in the company of those that would. Do you understand that?"

Sansa was tempted to return Amarah's question with icy silence but rethought that impulse at the grave look on the other woman's face. "Yes, I trust you."

"Good," Amarah answered before backing away a few steps to examine Sansa's features, a touch of fondness softening her eyes. "You've become such a young lady. No more of the gangly, russet-haired toddler running underfoot all the time."

Sansa found herself blushing a bit under Amarah's approving words. "Petyr tried to teach me how to be the lady of a keep for when he retook Winterfell."

Amarah's gaze turned hard again at the mention of Petyr's name. "Sansa, did Petyr Baelish ever harm you in any way? That is, did he ever force attentions on you?"

From the look on Amarah's face, Sansa could tell that her cousin was ready to march into the deepest pits of the seven hells and give Petyr Baelish the tongue lashing of his life if she answered in the affirmative. She was glad to spare her cousin the trouble. "He kissed me a few times but nothing more."

"If he wasn't already dead I would slit his throat myself," Amarah answered, clearly not pleased that Baelish had touched her cousin in any way.

As she took in her cousin's fierce expression, Sansa felt a warm sensation blossom in the center of her chest. She and Amarah had never been the closest of relatives in the Stark clan, but with so many treasured members of their family lost for good, they would need to depend on one another more than ever. Sansa knew instinctively that no matter what happened, she could depend on Amarah to have her best interests at heart. It was rather a nice feeling.

"I'm going to talk with Ser Jaime for a bit," Amarah told her then before pressing a kiss to her brow in brief farewell. "Will you be all right for a little while on your own?"

Sansa answered that she would and Amarah left her there with the promise to soon return. Sansa watched her go before wandering away from the din of rustling activity coming from the soldiers all around. Once she had moved away from the band of soldiers and squires, Sansa found a well placed rock overlooking the valley between the mountain surrounding her. When she reached the rock, she prepared to sit for a short moment of rest but was taken off guard when the little seat shifted beneath her, threatening to spill her down the side of the slope at her feet. Sansa gave a little squeal of surprise before a pair of strong arms lifted her from the seat and set her firmly in the grass once again.

Once she was standing on solid ground, Sansa whirled around to face her unknown rescuer. When her eyes met the sight of his half-burned head, the words she had meant to say were immediately forgotten. Sansa had recalled Amarah mentioning the Hound's presence in the company but had not noticed him that morning among the large company of soldiers. She had almost begun to think that he had wandered off on his own after the battle at the Eyrie. The action would not have been an unexpected one. In fact, the last time they had spoken he was running away from the siege on the capital. When she had asked him about his allegiance to the crown, the only reply she had received was a succinct but blunt one. _Fuck the King_, he had said. Though despite his ferocity, it had been the first time she hadn't been frightened of the great, hulking brute. Because it was that night she recognized he meant her no harm. The same man who she had watched slice people down without thought or remorse should have been a pronounced threat to her safety, but she hadn't seen him as such. She didn't then and she didn't now, even with him looking down at her with a fierce scowl.

"Don't go tumbling down the side, Little Bird," he spoke in the harsh, rough voice she remembered so well. "It would be a fucking, worthless waste to survive Lord Baelish only to perish at the foot of the mountains."

He promptly turned away to return to the others after bestowing that advice, but Sansa stopped him by calling out a question she had been longing to ask since hearing of his part in her rescue. "Why did you help find me?"

His head dipped toward the ground at hearing her words, almost as if he didn't want to reveal the truth, but he eventually looked back at her with a faintly haunted look lurking in his eyes. Inexplicably Sansa wanted to hold his hand in comfort, but she quickly squashed the odd impulse. Unaware of her thoughts, Sandor responded to the question she had aimed at his retreating back. "I don't know."

"I don't believe you." Sansa spoke the accusation softly, but the chilly, winter breeze managed to carry it to his ears.

His gaze bored into hers then, hot and hard, much as it had been the last time they had been together. She recalled that cruel mouth as it pressed against hers, even while the green wildfire of the night burned all around the city. How she had, for that one moment in midst of all that madness, felt entirely safe. The poignant moment between them was abruptly broken by an angry shake of Sandor's head before he turned his back to her once again and continued his path toward the others.

The wind carried his reply back to her. "Believe whatever you like."

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_The kiss Sansa remembers here is actually a kiss that she thinks of a couple of times in the books even though it never actually happened. That will come up again later in this story. I know this chapter was very short, but the next one will be from Amarah's point of view and much longer and __**much**__ more angsty/emotional to make up for it. I'm already working on it, so hopefully I can have that up sometime tomorrow. Fingers crossed! Any reviews or comments are much welcome:)_


	53. Chapter 53

**Author's Note: **_Thank you for the continued support! So I didn't get this chapter done as early as I wanted, but it needed a bit more work. It's here now though, so please read on!_

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One day left. Only one more day of travel before Amarah would be reuniting Sansa with the Lady Stoneheart. She wasn't precisely certain how to feel about the imminent reunion between lost daughter and mother. She had tried to find the words to explain to Sansa what to expect when they met with the Brotherhood, but Amarah knew that sometimes words would never be enough. Sometimes one had to experience something for themselves in order to understand things that could not possibly be explained.

Despite this knowledge, that night when they made camp, Amarah went to Sansa to try once more to prepare her for what was soon to come. When she approached the girl's dwelling, she found Brienne standing at the entrance, a faithful sentry to protect against any soldiers who might not be able to resist the temptation of a young, beautiful girl in their midst. It wasn't that Amarah didn't trust Jaime's men. She just trusted Brienne more.

"Good evening, my lady," Brienne greeted her when she arrived.

Amarah returned the greeting with a warm smile and prepared to enter the tent before a quick thought occurred to her. "Brienne," she said in a low voice intended only for her knight's ears. "Tomorrow eve stay as close to the lady Sansa as possible."

"What about you, my lady?" Brienne was quick to reply, causing Amarah to send her a grateful smile at the display of steadfast loyalty.

"I have Jaime to watch after me," she tried allay Brienne's fears. When Brienne opened her mouth to further contest the point, Amarah laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to stay the argument. "Sansa is the heir to Winterfell, and the only Stark left to reunite the broken North. If the need arises for your protection, you must give it to her and not worry about me. It's time I began put my family above my own selfish needs. Things might turn out well enough despite my fears, but if they do not, I need you to obey me in this."

Brienne did not appear happy with Amarah's decision, but she gave a barely perceptible nod in agreement. "If that is what you wish, my lady."

"It is," Amarah answered kindly. "Sansa's encountered too many people who have used her as a pawn in their schemes to meet their own ends. It's time she had a loyal knight such as I have to stand by her side."

It may have been a trick of the light, but Amarah imagined that Brienne's brilliantly sapphire eyes turned a bit misty in the moonlight. "I would say she has that in you as well, my lady."

Amarah gave Brienne's shoulder a gentle squeeze in thanks. "Then we shall both endeavor to serve her as faithfully as we can."

With those words, Amarah left Brienne to enter Sansa's tent. When she entered the flickering candlelight, she found Sansa kneeling in a far corner, rummaging through a cedar chest. Amarah recalled that the chest of clothing was the only thing Sansa had taken with her from the Vale. Whatever it was Sansa was searching for, her attention was so invested in locating the item that she didn't see Amarah enter the tent.

"Sansa?" Amarah called to Sansa in order to alert her of her presence.

Sansa whipped around, her eyes widened in unexpected surprise. When she saw Amarah standing there, she immediately shut the lid of her trunk with a loud thump. Puzzled by her odd behavior, Amarah crossed the space to where Sansa was rising from her position on the dirt floor.

"What precisely is in there that you're attempting to hide from me?" Amarah wondered with a keen look. "A dead body perhaps?"

That managed to illicit a bare hint of a smile from the other girl, but she didn't offer to show Amarah what it was she wished to keep hidden. "Nothing important," she answered with a downcast gaze that caused Amarah to suspect she wasn't being entirely truthful. "Just some of my summer dresses for when the weather turns warmer."

Amarah reached out to tilt Sansa's chin up, letting the glow of the candlelight expose the furtive look in those wide, blue eyes. "I won't make many requests of you, cousin, but the one thing I do ask is that you are entirely honest with me. I know you well enough to see when you are trying to hide something."

"Please believe me that it is nothing important," Sansa responded, grabbing onto Amarah's hand that still held her face captive in the light. "It's just something that I would rather keep to myself."

Amarah's instinct was to press the subject further, but from the frantic look in Sansa's eyes, she decided to mercifully spare her cousin whatever mortification would be caused by discovering what she wished to keep hidden in that trunk. "All right," she agreed before she could change her mind. "In any case, that's not why I came to talk with you."

"What did you wish to say? Lady Brienne says we should meet with the Brotherhood on the morrow, and Moth– , I mean the Lady Stoneheart," she stopped herself from speaking the familiar title.

Amarah led Sansa to the trunk she had just slammed shut before bidding her to sit down on the closed lid. "That's what I wanted to discuss," Amarah informed Sansa once she was seated. "I don't think I've adequately prepared you for what you are going see when we meet with the Brotherhood."

"What else is there to say?" Sansa asked softly, looking up at her cousin in wide-eyed wonderment.

Amarah took a deep breath to tell the worst of it. "When your mother was given life by Beric Dondarrion, she didn't return to how we knew her. She hardly even resembles her old self. In fact, the wounds that were inflicted upon her at the Tully wedding are still there. Gods, she looks like a walking corpse." Amarah had to stop for a moment in order to gather her emotions properly. "When you see her Sansa, the brutality that was inflicted on her will still be there for you to see. It will serve as a reminder to you what was done to her at the hand of the Freys."

Sansa tangled her fingers together in a show of anxiety. "Does she even still look like my mother?"

"If you look very closely, there is still some of the real Catelyn Stark left in her soul, but she bears very heavily the mark of vengeance. The compassion and warmth we both remember might not be any where to be found."

It saddened Amarah to inflict such pain on Sansa with these revelations about Stoneheart, but she would rather the young girl experience that suffering now than to come face to face with the vengeful spirit of Catelyn Stark without any proper warning, leaving her wholly unprepared to process the emotions Lady Stoneheart's appearance might stir up within her already wounded soul.

Sansa took a moment to absorb all that Amarah had told her, and stood from her perch on the cedar chest to wander about the small space as she considered all that had been said. "Why do you wish Brienne to stay with me with we meet with her?" she finally asked Amarah after several moments of silent pacing.

Amarah gave a small grimace at her question. "I hadn't intended for you to hear that."

"But I did," Sansa replied, a look of authority gracing her features that hinted at the mature woman she had become in Amarah's absence. "You asked me to be honest with you. Can you do the same for me?"

"I don't know what will happen when we meet with Stoneheart," Amarah admitted truthfully. "I only want to take whatever precautions I can to see that you are kept safe. As I am presently unaware of your sister's whereabouts, you are the only Stark left to ride North and retake the family seat in Winterfell, and you must be kept from any harm. Brienne is the most faithful knight I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and I know I can trust her implicitly with your safety. I am not saying anything will take a turn for the worst, but if it does, I expect you to keep Brienne by your side at all costs."

Amarah wasn't prepared for the next question that left Sansa's mouth. "What of Sandor Clegane? He would keep me safe if you asked it of him."

"Why do you think that?" Amarah's response contained not the barest hint of sarcasm or disdain, only a healthy amount of curiosity. She had already glimpsed Clegane's tendency to watch over Sansa's safety, even when the girl was not aware of his regard. Amarah wondered how much Sansa herself understood the protective instincts she roused in such a man as that.

"He's helped me before," Sansa told her then, speaking in soft tones as if it were a closely-guarded secret meant only for Amarah's ears, and perhaps it was. "In the capital, the royal party was attacked by an angry mob. I was separated from the rest when these men tried to hurt me. When I thought all hope of rescue was lost, he came and slayed them all to keep me safe. Even when the capital burned the night of Stannis Baratheon's siege, he came to me and offered to take me with him. He told me he would never let anyone else harm me if I did."

Amarah didn't say anything at first as she thought over what Sansa had said. At Amarah's silent response, Sansa resumed her agitated pacing, looking back every now and then at her cousin as she waited for her to speak. "If what you say is true," Amarah broke the silence, bringing Sansa's constant pacing to a stop. "Then I won't need to ask him to keep you safe. He'll do it of his own accord."

Sansa's gaze wandered back to the mysterious chest still sitting tightly closed in the corner of the tent. "Yes," she agreed with a queer look that Amarah didn't fully understand. "I suppose he will."

There were a barrage of questions Amarah wished to ask her cousin about the odd relationship between her and the Hound, but she kept them locked away. If she began asking Sansa questions about Sandor Clegane, she knew she would have to answer ones in return about Jaime, bringing to light certain aspects of their relationship that she was not yet prepared to discuss. So reluctantly, she let the subject come to a close.

"Go to bed now, my dear," she ordered her cousin with a soft kiss, shooing her in the direction of her sleeping pallet. "You'll need your rest for the morrow."

"Good night," Sansa returned Amarah's kiss and did as she was asked.

Amarah made sure Sansa was situated properly before exiting the tent and bidding Brienne a good evening as she made her way back to her own temporary abode. She passed Sandor Clegane sitting a short distance away from where she had just come and almost gave into the impulse to question him about his odd behavior regarding the young Stark girl. However, she curtailed the impulse and simply acknowledged his presence with a nod before proceeding on. He didn't return the gesture, but she hadn't expected him to.

When Amarah arrived at her own tent, she went inside to find Jaime already fast asleep. Officially, he had his own tent and bed to sleep in, but he never stayed there. Once the men were settled for the night, he would make his way to her tent and spend the night hours with her. She always awoke to find him gone, his early departure an attempt to keep their relationship discreetly hidden from prying eyes as she had asked him to do, but sometimes Amarah let herself wonder what it would be like to awaken with him by her side every morning. What it would be like to have the family with him that she so longed for, far away from the capital and all its scheming and political intrigue.

_But that can never be, _she thought with a sad smile as she continued to watch his sleeping form. Neither of them had wanted to be a part of this struggle for power, but it was the life they were both born to. There was no escaping it.

Pushing her fanciful notions of peace and happiness aside, Amarah shed her gown before crawling underneath the furs and pressing her face against Jaime's warm skin. She had meant to follow him into sleep until she felt him turn to face her and wrap his strong arms around her small form.

He nuzzled her hair before moving his mouth to whisper in her ear. "Where were you?"

"Talking with Sansa," she answered while tracing little, invisible patterns across his exposed chest.

He let her play for a bit before reaching up to still her wandering hand. "If you don't stop doing that we'll be doing more than sleeping."

"Is that what we're doing?" she whispered back in mock surprise. "You seem rather awake for a man in the depths of slumber."

She could hear Jaime's answering chuckle in the darkness. "Always so clever, Princess. I expect you to use those wits tomorrow when we bring your cousin to that rage-filled corpse. Gods know we can use every ounce of cleverness at our disposal then."

"I'm frightened of what she might do," Amarah admitted then, her small whisper barely making it past her lips as if she were incapable of admitting any vulnerability such as fear.

She knew Jaime heard though when he pressed her closer into his protective embrace. "I've already told you to stop imagining the worst before it happens. My men are prepared to deal with those outlaws if the need should arise. I would worry more about that cousin of yours falling into a dead faint at the sight of her mother's cadaver-like appearance."

"I've warned her the best I could," Amarah told him, though the words came out a bit garbled as her face was pressed firmly against his hard chest. Pulling back a bit, she tried to peer at him through the darkness. "What was it like for you, when you saw what Tyrion had done to your Father?"

Jaime was so silent at first Amarah feared she might have gone too far with her question. When Jaime had first told her of Tywin's death and Tyrion's subsequent disappearance, she had been too shocked to form a reply. Now was the first she had ever broached the topic of the disappeared Lannister sibling. "Part of me was saddened, I think," Jaime's voice whispered softly in her ear. "I was angry even at Tyrion for doing it, but the longer I was given to think on it the more understood why."

"He always spoke of how much disdain he had for your father," Amarah answered, recalling all the times Tyrion had mocked the proud, unbending Tywin Lannister in her presence. "But despite all that, I think he just wanted the approval of a father who would never love him. It made me sad to hear him talk about it."

"Well he hates the lot of us now." There was a bitter edge to Jaime's voice that prompted Amarah to press a kiss of reassurance to his lips. They were hardened into an angry line at first, but after a few moments she felt his mouth relax again under the soft pressure of her kiss.

Pulling back, she rested her head sleepily on his chest. "He'll forgive you, Jaime. Love always helps us forgive."

"If that's true, Princess, let us hope that corpse finds it in her heart to offer us forgiveness in exchange for her lost daughter. If not, you may have very good reason to prepare for the worst," came Jaime's cynical reply.

Amarah would have disputed the claim if she had believed it to be untrue, but she knew it was not. Burrowing further into Jaime's warm embrace, she squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to shut out the image of Lady Stoneheart's chilling gaze, so full of the hate Jaime had mentioned. For all their sakes, she prayed to the Seven that the creature _could_ find it in her heart to forgive. With that silent prayer on her lips, Amarah drifted to sleep in Jaime's arms.

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_So I had originally meant to have the reunion with Lady Stoneheart here, but as the chapter went on, I realized I needed a bit more set up for that than I had originally planned. Next chapter though, we'll definitely get there. Will Stoneheart forgive or continue on the path towards vengeance? You'll just have to keep reading to find out:) Thanks for reading! Any comments are very welcome!_


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